Second Chances
by Snapdragon83
Summary: Jane and Kurt struggle to repair their relationship. Post-finale.
1. Chapter 1

I do not own Blindspot or its characters.

* * *

Weekends were the worst.

Kurt focused on the rhythmic pounding of his footsteps on the asphalt, on the traffic flowing past him as he ran, on his surroundings, anything to keep his mind off the nightmare that had become his living reality for the past month. If only he could outrun it as easily as the miles fell away beneath his feet.

He'd thought his world had been completely shattered by discovering Taylor's body, by the realization that his father truly was the monster he'd only just stopped believing him to be, but nothing could have prepared him for the horror that awaited him back here in New York. In twenty-four hours, he'd lost his father, his childhood friend, his mentor, and the woman he'd begun to believe could be his future.

His lips twisted in a sneer. Well, he hadn't exactly _lost_ her. In fact, she was closer to him than ever—physically, at least—though he hoped that arrangement would be short-lived. After a careful review of the evidence, the federal prosecutor had declined to bring charges against Jane at this point, feeling that her version of events would be more than enough to inspire reasonable doubt. Her amnesia would make her all the more sympathetic to a jury, the man argued, as would her recent assistance to the FBI, which had helped save countless thousands of lives. Better to wait until they had something more concrete, something she couldn't possibly wriggle her way out of than to roll the dice now and lose. Double jeopardy would prevent them from ever getting a conviction against her in Mayfair's murder in that case.

Kurt hadn't argued. Sooner or later, Jane would show her true colors again, and he would be there waiting to arrest her when she did. In the meantime, he was following the old adage to keep his friends close and his enemies closer. He'd managed to convince Pellington to allow Jane to return to the team to investigate the potential threat this Shepherd posed to the US government, provided she wasn't armed and agreed to wear an electronic monitoring device, and he'd moved her into the now empty spare bedroom in his apartment to ensure she didn't cut it off and run during off hours.

Having her that close to him was its own special brand of hell because even in private, she still persisted in acting exactly like the Jane he had been falling for. He wanted to yell at her, shake her, demand that she drop the act and quit torturing him. But of course, he couldn't do any of that. Instead, he hid behind the wall of professionalism his new job demanded, making no effort to hide the disdain in his eyes, but always speaking to her with a cool politeness that deepened the sadness in hers.

He'd lost that mask briefly last night when she'd confessed to an almost unbearable loneliness and begged him to talk to her, scream at her if he needed to, anything but treat her with such chill indifference. He'd snapped at her that if she wanted a confidant that badly, she should have run off with her lover instead of stabbing him to death like the Grim Reaper. The devastated look on her face as she fled to her room had guaranteed that he didn't get a wink of sleep all night and had driven him out of the apartment at this ungodly hour to put some distance between himself and the woman he was still heartbreakingly, maddeningly attracted to.

The sound of raised voices jolted him out of his abstraction and he glanced down the alley he was passing to see three teenage boys forming a circle around something at their feet. An animal, he guessed as one of them drew back his foot to kick it. "Hey!" he yelled, already sprinting down the alley to its defense. He placed his hand on his gun as they turned to him menacingly.

He barely spared a glance for the bedraggled kitten at their feet, keeping his eyes trained on theirs as the feline scampered away to hide under a nearby dumpster. He pulled his shirt up to reveal the badge on his belt. "FBI. You punks leave that animal alone and get out of here. Go on!" he growled as the two shorter ones looked to the older boy that was clearly the ringleader. "Before I change my mind and have the NYPD pick you up for animal cruelty." He hadn't seen anything that would make that charge stick, but these three didn't look intelligent enough to discern that.

The three exchanged looks and then took off at a dead run without a backward glance. Kurt sighed as he approached the dumpster and knelt down, knowing if he left the animal here, the boys would likely return and kill it. He laid down on his belly and blindly felt around for the kitten, biting back a curse when it slapped at his hand. "I'm trying to help you, you ungrateful beast."

There was no response. He softened his tone. "I promise I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to take you home and give you a nice bowl of warm milk and—" He paused. What _was_ he going to do with the mistrustful feline? No shelters would be open on a Sunday.

A grim smile appeared on his face as he suddenly knew _exactly_ what he was going to do with the little spitfire. "Here, kitty, kitty," he began calling softly.

The kitten finally emerged from under the dumpster and Kurt pounced.

xxx

He hated her.

Jane curled up on the couch, making herself as small as possible, and rested her head on her knees. She had given up on pretending to sleep when she heard the front door close behind Kurt, but it had taken her some time to work up the nerve to come out here. His words had replayed over and over in her head all night, and for the first time, she had been tempted to do exactly what he moved her in here to prevent: cut the tracking device off her ankle and run.

It wasn't as if he was going to forgive her, after all. She'd been stubbornly clinging to hope for the past month that if she just gave him time and space to mourn his losses, to look past her betrayal and consider why she had acted as she did, that he would come around, would realize that just as he'd told her at the beginning of their relationship, the person she'd been before wasn't who she was now.

But last night had made it glaringly apparent to her that those words had never been meant for _her_ , not really.

They'd been meant for Taylor Shaw.

A solitary tear trickled down her cheek and she was just reaching a hand up to swipe it away when she heard the door open. She flinched and glanced toward the hallway, mentally gauging the odds that she could reach her room before Kurt spotted her. Slim to none, she realized, and hunkered down, hoping he wouldn't notice her and would go on to his room.

Of course, with the way her luck had been going lately, that didn't happen. She sat up straight as she heard Kurt approaching, her head down, her hands clenched into fists at her side. If he wanted to argue with her this morning, he was going to have to start the conversation. She was all fought out.

Kurt hesitated as he approached Jane. This was the first time she had refused to meet his gaze since all this began, and it bothered him more than he cared to admit. "You're up," he said lamely. "Good. Here." He dropped the kitten into her lap.

Jane's hands automatically came up to stroke the frightened animal as it dug its tiny claws into her thighs, and her eyes shot up to meet Kurt's. "What's this?"

He shrugged. "A kitten. Found it on my run, and thought of you. You said you were lonely. Now you won't be."

What she had said was she wanted _him_ to talk to her. She opened her mouth to reiterate that, and then thought better of it. The studied indifference in his eyes still stung, but at least he was back to being civil to her this morning. And whether he realized it or not, this gesture was incredibly sweet.

Time, she reminded herself as she studied the scrawny charcoal kitten watching her with baleful blue eyes. He just needed more time. She could give him that. She _owed_ him that after all her actions had cost him. "What am I supposed to do with it?" She had no idea how to take care of a pet—or if she'd ever even had one.

"Her," Kurt corrected, having determined the kitten's gender on the long walk home. "Feed her. Name her. Love her. Cats are pretty self-sufficient; she'll take care of the rest. I'll, uh . . . I'll run to the store and get you some supplies." He grabbed his car keys and exited the apartment as quickly as he'd returned.

He was gone far longer than he'd anticipated—it turned out there was much more to keeping a cat than he'd realized—and when he entered, Jane and the kitten were nowhere to be found. He opened his mouth to call her name, but before he could utter a syllable, a disturbing cacophony of noise greeted his ears from the direction of the bathroom.

There were several loud thuds, followed by what sounded like muffled cursing and someone wailing, and then came the loudest bang of all. Kurt dropped his purchases in the entryway and drew his gun as he raced down the hall to help. He burst into the bathroom, ready to confront the unknown assailant, only to find . . .

. . . Jane? His mouth dropped open as he took in the scene before him. Jane had changed into an old tank top and shorts and was sitting with her ass in the half-filled tub, her legs dangling over the edge and the most sheepish expression he had ever seen on her face, holding a spitting mad wet kitten by the scruff of the neck.

The chuckle that burst forth from him startled both of them. He was still grinning as he holstered his gun and walked forward a few steps. "You know, Jane," he mentioned, leaning over to take the kitten from her so she could stand, "cats really don't like water." Although this one had certainly needed it. It had gone from a dirty charcoal to a beautiful cream with a brownish-gray face and ears. He never would have guessed such a cute kitten existed under all that grime.

"You don't say," she murmured dryly as she pulled herself up, doing her best to wring the excess water from her shorts before reaching for a couple of towels. She wrapped one around her waist and handed him the other to dry the kitten off, and it was then that he noticed the scratches on her hand. "It would have been nice to have known that _before_ I decided to do it."

Kurt's smile faded as her words recalled him to a sense of reality. "I would have if I'd known you were going to."

"I know that, Kurt," Jane assured him quietly. She knew he would never stand by and deliberately allow her to be injured. Not physically, at least. "I wasn't suggesting that you—"

"It's fine, Jane," Kurt interrupted, a bit more sharply than he had intended. He finished toweling the kitten off and set her down. "Grab the first-aid kit out of the cabinet over there, and I'll patch up that hand."

She did as he asked without comment, but hesitated as she set it on the counter. "You don't have to do this. I can manage it on my own."

Kurt's mouth tightened, but he didn't respond, simply reached for her hand and disinfected and dressed the wound. "There you go." The kitten was still sitting in the doorway, grooming herself, and he scooped her up and deposited her in Jane's arms. "Have you thought of a name for her yet?" he asked as he led the way to the living room.

"Bethany," Jane said softly as she paused beside the large pile of cat accessories he had purchased. "I want to call her Bethany."

Kurt sucked in a breath as he swiveled to face her, pain and anger and disbelief warring for dominance in his eyes.

"I miss her too, Kurt," she pleaded, wishing she still had the freedom to hug away the hurt she saw reflected on his face. Wishing he still cared enough about her to comfort her the same way.

 _You got her killed._ Kurt didn't speak the thought aloud, but he didn't have to: it hung in the air between them. It had been between them even before he heard her confession; from the moment that Reade and Zapata had broken the news to him, he'd known instinctively that Jane had somehow had a hand in it.

Those same instincts were screaming at him now that her remorse was genuine, that she wasn't the cold-blooded monster he was trying to make her out to be in his mind, but he wasn't ready to give credence to them. After all, their track record hadn't been too good of late. "She's your cat," he said brusquely, brushing past her to take a seat on the couch. "Call her what you want."

Jane started to immediately follow after him and then thought better of it. There were a few things she needed to say to him, but this time, it needed to be a calm and rational discussion, not another confrontation in the heat of the moment. She took a seat on the floor, sorting through the cat paraphernalia, as she considered what she wanted to say.

She filled one of the brightly colored food bowls with a small amount of kitten chow and watched until Bethany began to eat before getting up and taking a seat on the other end of the couch. Kurt didn't glance at her, keeping his gaze on the magazine he was reading, but she knew he was hyper-aware of her proximity. At least he hadn't instantly gotten up to put more space between them. That felt like progress. "Can we talk?" she asked softly.

He supposed that was long overdue. Kurt sighed as he tossed the magazine onto the coffee table. "I'm not real sure what you want me to say here, Jane."

"You don't have to _say_ anything, Kurt. You haven't done anything wrong, and it clearly feels like a punishment to you to even come home anymore." Jane hesitated. "I think I should move out. And before you say no—"

"No," Kurt ground out.

"At least hear me out," Jane begged. "I'm not going to run, Kurt. I've submitted voluntarily to wearing an electronic monitoring device and every other restriction you've placed on me." Including being unarmed while out in the field, which basically made her a sitting duck if anything went wrong. "I'll face what I've done and take whatever punishment you deem appropriate, but this . . . this isn't fair to you, Kurt. You deserve a life outside of work. You deserve—" Someone special to spend the rest of your life with, she started to say, but she couldn't force those words past the lump in her throat. The thought of him with anyone else was just too painful. "You deserve better."

" _Mayfair_ deserved better," he retorted. " _David_ deserved better. Sarah. Sawyer." He hadn't even begun to come to grips with his horror at leaving his nephew unattended with his father when Reade had confided in him that someone had threatened him and Sarah. Hearing Jane's confession and realizing that someone was likely a member of her organization had been like a knife to the gut. "And probably countless others that I don't know about yet. I was the one who refused to listen to everyone who tried to warn me not to trust you so blindly, so it seems to me I'm getting exactly what I _deserve_."

What could she possibly say to that? She certainly wasn't in a position to tell him none of this was his fault, even though every bit of it had been _her_ fault. He was clearly not willing to hear that from her. Jane blew out a breath. "So . . . where does that leave us, Kurt? Is there any chance that we could . . .? I know I don't have any right to expect that we'll ever be friends like we were before, but I'm willing to do anything to work out our differences so that we can at least coexist peacefully. Is there any chance of that?"

"I don't know, Jane." Kurt glanced at her briefly before clenching his jaw and looking away again. "I don't know." He only knew that he couldn't stand to sit there next to her another second right now, and he rose quickly, feeling her disappointed gaze on him as he exited the room.

"Well, Bethany," Jane said sadly as the kitten bounded over to her, scooping her up into her lap, "I guess it's just you and me for now." She snuggled the cat onto her shoulder, burying her face in Bethany's fur as she began to purr.

 _It's just you and me._


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own Blindspot or its characters.

* * *

He wished he had never laid eyes on that damned kitten.

Kurt watched Jane out of the corner of his eye as he drained the rice for the stir-fry he had prepared them for dinner. As had become the norm over the past couple weeks, Bethany had been waiting at the door for them—for _Jane_ —when they returned and just as predictably, Jane hadn't spared him so much as a glance as she scooped her up and curled up in their favorite spot on the couch.

To add insult to injury, the ungrateful feline wanted nothing to do with him. _He_ had been the one to rescue her from certain death, had taken her several times to the vet to ensure she had a clean bill of health, and provided her with a much more lavish lifestyle than that which she had previously enjoyed, but any time he approached the two of them, she arched her back and hissed.

His jaw clenched as Jane began stroking her head, and he suddenly, unaccountably, wished he could trade places with her. He dumped the rice into the bowl with more force than necessary as he realized he was actually jealous of a dumb animal. Due to it getting attention from a woman he should absolutely want nothing to do with, professionally _or_ romantically, no less.

What the hell was wrong with him?

No doubt Borden would have a field day delving into that question, Kurt thought bitterly as he scraped the stir-fry into a second bowl. The normally mild-mannered shrink had been unusually persistent in attempting to bait him into discussing the tragic events of late, but he was still in no mood to do so. Nor would he even know where to begin.

Actually, that wasn't true. He suspected he would spend a large portion of that session ranting about Jane's recent behavior, which was yet another reason he had been avoiding it. He'd woken up the day after he gave Bethany to her only to find that she had adopted the same persona he had been using on her: coldly professional at the office and chillingly indifferent at home. Gone was the pleading in her green eyes and the hesitant smiles she offered whenever he cast a glance in her direction; she looked at him as rarely as possible these days, and he was finding her attitude increasingly difficult to take.

He was the one who should be giving up on _her_ , not the other way around. "Jane," he said gruffly as he set the bowls of food on the table. "Dinner's ready." He braced himself for their habitual fight about her not being hungry, but she surprised him by getting immediately to her feet and coming over to the table.

Jane was far more aware of Kurt than she let on as she crossed the room leisurely and leaned over the table to begin filling her plate, intending to take it back to the couch so Bethany could curl up on her lap as she ate. The cold silence she'd endured at the few meals she'd attempted to share with Kurt had killed her appetite so completely that she had vowed not to do it again unless something changed.

Well, something had changed, Jane reminded herself, and not for the better. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say _someone_ had changed. The look on Kurt's face the night he gave Bethany to her had finally convinced her that her betrayal was something that could never be forgiven or forgotten—not by him and not by the team whose first loyalty was rightfully to him—and she had simply resigned herself to whatever fate they deemed appropriate for her. In the meantime, and for as long as they allowed, she would protect them with her very life's blood, if necessary. They might not believe it, but they were the only true friends she suspected she'd ever had.

Kurt's sense of victory faded as Jane picked up her plate and turned back toward the couch. He should have known she wouldn't make it that easy on him. "Eat at the table with me tonight, Jane," he ordered sharply. She paused for a moment, her back stiffening at his command, and then continued on. He took a deep breath and deliberately softened his tone. "Please."

Jane's resolve crumbled at the pleading in his voice. Was it real or had her subconscious just conjured it up to torment her further? "Since you asked so nicely." She returned to the table and took the seat across from him.

Kurt smiled wryly at the memory those words evoked. For a moment it felt like old times again, and he suddenly realized how much he wanted that again. At least for now. "What do you say we call a truce?"

"A truce?" Jane asked cautiously. What exactly was he proposing? Had she given up on their relationship too quickly? Was he going to be able to forgive her after all? "What kind of truce?"

"For tonight," Kurt clarified, unaware of how cruelly he'd dashed Jane's budding hopes. "We're both adults; we should be able to sit down and enjoy a meal together in peace, don't you think?"

She hadn't exactly been the one preventing that, but Jane refrained from pointing that out, not wanting to end the proposed truce before it even began. "I'd like that." She took a bite of stir fry, searching her mind for an appropriate topic of conversation. "So, um . . . how are Sarah and Sawyer?" They hadn't stopped by the apartment since she'd moved in, but she hadn't expected them to; Kurt wouldn't want his family around the violent criminal he considered her to be.

The fact that an innocent little boy had been exposed to one because of her subterfuge was yet another item she could add to the list of reasons why she wasn't worthy of forgiveness.

"Busy packing," Kurt offered after a slight hesitation. "Sarah wants to get settled into the new place and her new job before Sawyer starts school."

"They're moving?" Jane was stunned. "Where to? _Why?_ " After everything Kurt had been through recently, she couldn't believe Sarah would leave him to face it on his own. The two of them had seemed so much closer than that.

"Portland. Sawyer's father lives there, and after her close call in the elevator, Sarah realized the two of them need to get to know one another, in case anything ever happens to her."

"But to move so far away from you right now, with everything that's happened—"

"I encouraged her to. She has been putting it off because of me, but she's right about Sawyer needing a relationship with his father, and I think a fresh start will be good for her. And I know she'll only be a phone call away if I need to talk. That's the way it's always been for us."

That must be nice. Jane smiled wistfully as she turned her attention back to the plate of stir-fry in front of her, suddenly much less hungry than she had been a moment ago. If only she'd had someone like that in her life, maybe she wouldn't have turned out the way she did, viewing people as objects to be targeted and manipulated for some intangible supposed greater good that meant nothing to her now.

Maybe she would have had a chance with a genuinely good guy like Kurt.

"Can I ask you something, Jane?" Kurt asked as the silence lengthened between them. Something about her behavior had been troubling him for the past few weeks, but with the wall of silence both of them had enacted, he hadn't quite known how to broach the subject.

"Of course," Jane assented at once, surprised that he felt the need to ask. She'd told the team from the very beginning that she would do her best to answer all their questions to the best of her ability, and she hadn't yet wavered in that commitment. "Anything."

"It occurred to me recently that we've leveled some pretty harsh criticisms at you, but you've never once attempted to defend yourself. I guess I'm just wondering why you haven't offered any justification for your actions." That behavior certainly didn't fit with the fighter she'd shown herself to be, and it bothered him that he couldn't make sense of it.

Jane shrugged. "Well . . . it's not really defensible, is it? No matter how good my intentions were, Mayfair is still dead because of me, and attempting to justify that would only have made you all angrier at me." If that was even possible. "I know why it happened, and I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive myself for it; how can I expect it to make any of you feel any kinder toward me?" She returned her attention to her stir-fry with a vengeance as tears blurred her eyes.

Kurt didn't know what to say. Her remorse appeared genuine, but it was at odds with the cold-blooded killer, the master manipulator, she'd confessed herself to be, and once again, he didn't know what to make of her behavior. "Still . . . I'd like to hear it."

Jane set her fork down on her plate with a clatter. "Have you ever stopped to consider what it was like for me, Kurt . . . really like for me? I woke up naked in a bag with no memories of who I was, where I came from, whether I had a home or family or friends . . . all things you take for granted _every_ day. No one came to claim me, so the only people who wound up being in my life were those whose _job_ it was to figure out what happened to me."

She held up a hand to forestall his automatic protest. "I'm not saying you weren't all very kind to me, and I appreciate that more than you know, but it's not the same thing. At the end of the day, you all got to go home to your loved ones, while I was driven back to a safe house by a security detail. I was _lonely_ , Kurt."

"And then you met Oscar," Kurt said, voice hard. "And you weren't so lonely anymore."

"Actually, at first, that made it worse," Jane corrected gently. "Finally, I had someone in my life that I remembered, that I had known recently, but he refused to tell me much of anything about myself. And what he did share . . ." She shrugged. "Like you said, I never felt connected to Taylor, and the more Oscar insisted I was her, the more doubts I had about him."

"But those doubts didn't stop you from jumping into bed with him," Kurt couldn't stop himself from pointing out. "By your own admission, he'd threatened my life at that point. If you cared about me as much as you claimed to, how could you sleep with someone like that?"

"I don't know," Jane admitted. She asked herself that same question every day. She almost wished she'd let him dose her with ZIP again so she wouldn't have to remember that. The memory still made her skin crawl. "I was lonely, and he made me feel safe. Comfortable. Special. He told me he loved me. I know it's no excuse, but . . ."

She looked down at her hands as her eyes flooded with tears again. "I'm sorry, Kurt," she whispered. "I'm so very, _very_ sorry."

The room was so silent you could have heard a pin drop when she finished speaking. Kurt dropped his gaze to his plate, not sure what to say in response to that, when suddenly . . . "Ow!"

"Kurt? What is it?" Jane asked, half-rising from her chair in concern. "What's wrong?"

Kurt carefully disconnected Bethany's claws from the fabric of his jeans and held her up. The obstreperous feline had the nerve to bump her head against his arm and begin purring. "I guess she's decided she likes me, after all."

Jane smiled at the picture the two of them made, the big, strong FBI agent with a heart of gold and the diminutive kitten with a personality at odds with her small size. Kurt cuddled Bethany against his chest and she quickly pulled her phone out of her pocket, snapping a picture before he could object. He shot her a look of mock irritation and she grinned at him for the first time in weeks. "What's the matter, Weller? Afraid you'll lose your tough guy status when the team gets a load of this?"

Kurt blinked as Jane's smile bloomed, surprised to see it directed at him even if it was due entirely to the little fur ball perched on his chest. He smiled in return, but before he could come up with a snappy comeback, her own faded, replaced by the hauntingly sad expression she had been wearing since he arrested her. "Jane? What's the matter?"

Jane hesitated. "I know I don't have any right to ask anything of you, but . . . once I'm not around to take care of Bethany any longer, if you don't want her, will you please find someone special, someone she likes, to take her? I don't want her to go to a shelter."

Kurt's brow furrowed. "And just where is it you think you'll be going? I seem to recall you promising me you wouldn't run."

"And I won't," Jane assured him. "But we can't go on in limbo like this forever, Kurt. One of two things is going to happen: either the prosecutor will finally decide to file charges against me and I'll go to prison, or Shepherd will have me killed." She suspected she would wind up dead either way; an organization like Shepherd's wouldn't be tolerant of failures or betrayal, and she was guilty of both.

Kurt frowned. "Nothing is going to happen to you on my watch, Jane; you don't need to worry about that."

He might think that, but he had no idea what he was up against. Nor did she, really. Her movements were much more restricted these days, and she'd had few flashbacks since the night in the barn with Oscar. She hadn't remembered anything that could really help them combat Shepherd's organization. She was just thankful for every day that passed without them coming after her team. "Please . . . promise me just in case. Bethany deserves a good home."

"I promise," Kurt reassured her, unable to stop himself from reaching over and giving her hand a quick squeeze to try to cheer her up. He had the satisfaction of seeing her expression lighten for a moment, but it turned somber again all too quickly.

"Thanks, Kurt," Jane said quietly as she rose and took Bethany from him so he could do the dishes. She would have liked to have done that chore herself, since he had cooked, but the one time she had offered, he had made it clear her help wasn't welcome. The kitchen was his domain, as was most of the rest of the apartment, and she had come to respect that. "If there's nothing else, I think I'll turn in for the night." Sleep was always a long time coming, and morning always came too early.

"Good night, Jane," Kurt returned, watching as she turned and walked down the hallway until she was out of sight, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Just the way he liked it.

Why, then, did he feel so empty?

xxx

Any hopes that their truce would be extended beyond the occasional dinner together were swiftly dashed as Jane joined Kurt in the kitchen the following morning. "Morning, Kurt," she greeted hesitantly.

"Jane," he returned coolly. "Best put your coffee in a to-go cup; I need to get into the office early this morning. We'll be leaving in ten minutes." He picked his own cup up and headed back to his bedroom to finish getting ready.

"Good morning, Jane," she muttered under her breath just loud enough for him to hear as he walked away. "Nice to see you too." She did as he asked, knowing that he wouldn't hesitate to leave her if she was late, and was waiting by the door with minutes to spare.

The drive was accomplished in silence, as had become the norm, and as usual, Reade and Zapata responded to her quiet ' _Good morning'_ with stony silence. At least Patterson offered her a slight smile, albeit when the others' backs were turned. She took a seat to one side and pulled up the photo of Bethany and Kurt on her phone, already needing a happy memory to bolster her spirits to get through this day.

Patterson craned her head to see what Jane was looking at as she saw her eyes light up. She hadn't seen her show that much emotion in weeks. "Aww. That's so cute. Kurt, I didn't know you had a cat."

"I don't," Kurt replied dismissively, shooting Jane a look that made her quail and quickly put her phone away. "She's Jane's. The ornery animal won't normally have anything to do with me, but for some reason she made an exception last night." Just like his truce with Jane, though, it hadn't lasted.

"You'd think it would be the other way around," Tasha commented with a scornful look at Jane. "I thought animals were supposed to be _good_ judges of character."

"Can we just get back to the case at hand, please," Kurt said brusquely as he saw Jane lower her head to hide the tears shimmering in her eyes. "Patterson, what do you have for us?"

Jane listened with half an ear as Patterson detailed how she'd unlocked the latest tattoo, still reeling from Tasha's comment. She knew they would never forgive her, so why did it still hurt so much every time she received fresh proof of that?

Kurt had to call her name twice before she realized he was speaking to her, and she flushed as she realized the whole team was staring at her. "Sorry," she mumbled, rising quickly and following them toward the elevator. She didn't even know where they were going, but she supposed it hardly mattered: she would most likely be ordered to stay in the car anyway. In handcuffs.

"Jane," Patterson called before she had gone three steps, and she turned, surprised. Patterson hesitated only a second before throwing her arms around her, hugging her tightly. "Don't give up on us, okay? We'll get through this. We just need a little more time."

"Thanks, Patterson," Jane said softly, hugging her back just as fiercely before making a beeline for the elevator. Suddenly Tasha's open scorn and Reade and Kurt's cold silence didn't seem nearly so unbearable. Amazing what a little hope could do.

Her upbeat mood vanished the moment she caught sight of their destination. The warehouse was on the docks, not far from where they had stopped the CDC doctor from infecting countless thousands with hemorrhagic fever, and appeared to be abandoned. She felt a chill snake its way down her spine as she studied the structure. "Did Patterson say what it was she thought we'd find here?" she asked.

Kurt shot her an annoyed look. He'd suspected she hadn't been paying attention during the briefing, and he briefly considered leaving her in the car before thinking better of it. She'd promised him she wouldn't run, but this place was just isolated enough for someone to abduct her if they had a mind to. Or kill her. Her words from last night were still fresh in his mind, and he wasn't about to take any chances.

As he'd promised, nothing would happen to her on his watch.

"Jane, you're with me," he ordered. "Here." He handed her an earpiece. "We'll clear the right side of the building. Reade and Zapata, you take the left. You see anything, you let me know immediately.

"Do I get a gun?" Jane asked as she put her earpiece in, regretting the question even as it left her mouth.

"What, so you can shoot another one of us in the back?" Tasha asked sarcastically.

"Zapata, _enough_!" Kurt barked. "Jane . . . just stay behind me." He drew his weapon and headed into the building without a backwards glance.

The warehouse was massive and had clearly once been used to store goods coming in off the ships; its interior was still lined with rows upon rows of dusty shelves. Empty boxes and broken beer bottles littered the floor and its walls were covered with graffiti. There was just enough sun shining through the double row of dirty windows on the far wall to light their way.

His frown deepened as they made their way further into the interior, not seeing anything here that would connect to Jane's tattoos. It appeared to just be your run-of-the-mill abandoned warehouse, and New York was full of those. Had Patterson made a mistake?

They were just circling approaching the far wall when all hell broke loose. Jane's phone buzzed with an incoming text, and Kurt cast her an irritated glare as he came back to her side. "Shut that thing off," he hissed before turning away again.

Jane yanked it out of her pocket hastily, anxious to comply, but she froze as her eyes took in the message on the screen.

 _You shouldn't have interfered._

"Kurt," she started to say, but before she could get his name out, a red dot appeared between his shoulder blades. A red dot that could only be from a sniper rifle. "Get down!"

Time seemed to stand still as he turned back toward her, disregarding her warning. The red dot was still visible, trained now on his heart, and she hesitated less than half a heartbeat before taking off running toward him, covering the distance between them and tackling Kurt just as the window behind him shattered.

"Jane?" Kurt whispered when she didn't move. "Jane, come on. Get up. We've got work to do." He grasped her shoulder, intending to shake her gently thinking she might have had the wind knocked out of her, but froze when he felt the sticky wetness beneath his fingers. _She'd been hit!_

"Weller?" he heard Reade ask in his earpiece. "You guys okay?"

"I'm okay, but Jane's been shot." Kurt struggled to keep the panic out of his voice as he carefully lifted her off him and yanked his jacket off to apply pressure to the wound, staying low in case the sniper had a mind to try it again. He placed his fingers against her neck, relieved to feel a pulse, albeit a weak one. "Damn it! She's losing a lot of blood. We need to get her to a hospital now." There was no point waiting for an ambulance when help was only about five blocks away.

He kept firm pressure against her shoulder as he carefully scooped her up with his free arm, cradling her against his chest as he waited for Reade and Zapata to arrive. The two of them helped him to his feet, guns at the ready as they flanked him, making their way quickly but carefully out of the warehouse.

Traffic was heavy at this hour of the morning and the drive to the hospital seemed to take an eternity. Jane's eyes began to flicker open when they were still several blocks away, and Kurt could have cried with relief. He gave her a weak smile, squeezing her hand gently. "We're almost at the hospital. Stay with me, Jane."

"Kurt." Jane struggled to breathe, to think. It felt like an elephant was sitting on her chest, but she attempted to give him a reassuring smile in return. From the look on his face, she had failed miserably. "I'm sorry . . . about lying to you. I'm so . . ." _Sorry_ , she wanted to say, but she couldn't find the breath to speak the word.

"Don't worry about it, Jane," Kurt said desperately as her eyes began to flutter closed once more. "Just stay with me. Jane? _Jane!_ "

Jane forced her eyes back open with an effort. "Don't forget . . . your promise. 'kay?"

He'd already failed in the only promise that mattered, his vow to keep her safe. "I won't, Jane. I'll take good care of Bethany until you're better." His heart broke as she attempted to smile at him again before slipping back into unconsciousness.

He leaped out of the SUV the moment Zapata opened his door for him, running through the doors of the emergency department. "I need some help here!" he called to the first nurse he saw.

She grabbed a gurney and he carefully laid Jane on it even as a whole host of medical personnel surrounded them. He held onto her hand tightly as they wheeled her into a trauma room.

The nurse who had initially come to his aid returned to his side. "Sir. Sir you can't be in here now. The doctors need room to work. Trust me, your friend's in good hands."

Kurt gave Jane's hand a final squeeze and reluctantly let go, casting one last frantic glance at her over his shoulder before the glass door slid shut again and he was left standing alone. All alone, just as she must have felt for the past month and a half, and yet she had selflessly sacrificed herself to save him.

He walked over to the wall opposite the room and slid down it, eyes trained on his hands still covered in Jane's blood, and wept bitterly.

 _It should have been me._


	3. Chapter 3

I do not own Blindspot or its characters.

* * *

 **A/N:** This will probably be the last update on my stories for a while. Doctors just found a large tumor in my abdomen (non-cancerous, thankfully) and I will be undergoing surgery this week to remove it. Not sure how long it will take me to feel well enough to resume writing, but I promise I will get back to it as soon as I am able. And thanks so much to all of you who read and review, and those who voted for my stories in the Blindspot fandom awards. It means the world to me to know you like my writing that much!

* * *

The waiting room felt like a tomb.

Kurt ran a hand through his hair, resisting the urge to glance once again at his watch, get up and pace, anything to break the agonizing, monotonous silence that had encompassed them. He had only been back fifteen minutes or so—Zapata had insisted that he go home to shower and change, pointing out that there was nothing he could do here while Jane was in surgery and that his bloodstained clothes and hands were freaking people out—but already he was finding it increasingly difficult to contain his impatience.

Jane had been taken into surgery nearly an hour and a half ago. What was taking the doctors so long to bring them word of her condition?

"Patience, Agent Weller," Borden said sympathetically, sensing the man was just about at his breaking point. If he hadn't already reached it. The dynamic of the entire team had been of increasing concern to him since Jane's bombshell confession, but thus far all his attempts to help had been rebuffed.

He could only hope tragedy wouldn't strike these people again before he had a chance to help them heal from the last one. He glanced around the room and felt his heart break for them. Weller's anxiety was clearly written in his face, in the anxious way he kept glancing at the open doorway at the other end of the room. Reade was more self-contained, but just as concerned; Borden had noted that his eyes darted toward the door nearly as often as Weller's.

Patterson was seated next to him. She had ridden over from the FBI with him, her eyes rimmed red with the tears that hadn't stopped falling since she received word of the shooting. He patted her hand gently, wishing he could do more to comfort her, and received a watery smile in response.

Zapata was currently the one he was most worried about, however. She had been silent and withdrawn since he arrived; those who didn't know her might think she was indifferent to the uncertainty, the gravity, of the situation, but he read the anguish in her eyes. The anguish and the guilt.

He was just opening his mouth to try to talk to her again, to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering her, when the sound of approaching footsteps caught his attention and he looked up to see the surgeon approaching. His heart sank at the grim expression on the man's face.

Every member of the team came to their feet seemingly as one. "How is she, Doc?" Kurt asked hoarsely.

Dr. Peters' face sank as he looked at the group's hopeful faces. He wished he had better news to give them. "She survived the surgery, but it was touch and go several times. She coded twice on the table, but we were able to bring her back. The bullet hit the subclavian artery in her shoulder, and she lost a lot of blood, so the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours will be critical. If you hadn't got her here when you did, she would have bled out."

Patterson's eyes flooded with a fresh wave of tears at the news of just how dire Jane's prognosis was. "Can we see her?"

Dr. Peters hesitated. Generally, in cases like this, only one member of the patient's immediate family would be allowed in the ICU, but he had a feeling this case was anything but routine. "I noticed the tracking device on her ankle, and the nurses were referring to her as Jane Doe. Can I ask . . .?"

"She's a federal asset," Kurt replied after a considered pause. "She has amnesia, and we've been unable to discern her identity, so we're the only people she has at the moment."

 _How did a person who had no memory of anything become a federal asset?_ Dr. Peters wondered, but he didn't bother to ask, knowing the question would go unanswered anyway. "In that case, I suppose it would be all right for one of you to go in to see her for a short time, but I have to tell you . . . she won't be able to talk to you. The reason it took me so long to come out here to update you is because she wasn't waking up after surgery. It appears she's slipped into a coma."

"But that could be a good thing, correct, Doctor?" Borden asked as much to reassure himself as to comfort his friends as he saw their stricken expressions. "It will give her body a chance to heal from this trauma."

"Right," Peters agreed. "Frankly, given the level of trauma she's suffered, if she hadn't slipped into a coma, we might have placed her in one ourselves. The only concern will be if she doesn't come out of it in a reasonable length of time, but given Jane's excellent physical condition, I would say that's highly unlikely. Your friend strikes me as a fighter."

Kurt nodded slowly. She _was_ a fighter. But had they left her anything to fight _for?_ The memory of her defeated expression as they headed into that warehouse haunted him, and he could see that same worry on Reade's and Zapata's faces. He had let them all down by allowing this sniping to go unchecked, and now Jane might pay for that mistake with her life.

If only he had listened to her concerns when he had the chance.

Had it only been last night that she had warned him that she was marked for death? How inconsiderate he had been to brush aside her fears without a second thought, how stupidly, blindly arrogant! And yet . . .

His eyes narrowed as he replayed the events of the day in his head. Jane yelling at him to get down, him turning toward her, she rushing toward him and tackling him to the ground just as the gunshot shattered the window behind them . . . Everything about what had happened pointed to him being the target, but he couldn't for the life of him fathom why. He had enemies, sure, but it seemed incredibly unlikely that they would confront him in a location that Jane's tattoos had led them to.

No, the attack had to be related to Shepherd and his mysterious group somehow. Perhaps they had sought to take him out before killing Jane to punish her for betraying them. That theory made as much sense as anything at this point, but no matter what the motive, from this moment on, Jane would be protected as she should have been from the start.

He looked at Dr. Peters. "I assume Jane is in a private room?" He relaxed slightly when the doctor nodded. "Great. I'll be assigning an FBI agent to stand guard outside her room, and one of us will be staying with her at all times. Also, I'd like to limit the number of people treating her, so if you could get me a list of the doctors that will need to see her and the best nurses on each shift, I would really appreciate it. Starting with those working now." He would be watching their every move and running background checks on each one until he was convinced they meant Jane no harm.

Dr. Peters opened his mouth to argue, but Kurt cut him off. "The people that did this to her are still out there, Doc. As long as she's lying in a bed defenseless, I'm going to make damn sure they don't have the opportunity to try again." They'd gotten to Chao in a hospital, and he was taking no chances.

Clearly, it would be fruitless to argue any further. And if the people who had shot his patient did intend to make another attempt on her life here, the extra security would be welcome. "Very well," Dr. Peters acceded, "but only one of you actually in the room at once. We'll need room to work. I'll discuss the matter with the charge nurse on duty right now, and she'll bring you the list when she comes out to take you back to see Jane. Fair enough?"

"I appreciate your cooperation, Doc," Weller said evenly, as if the man had had a choice. "Reade . . ."

"I'll head back to the office and get those background checks started as soon as the nurse brings us that list," Reade promised, anticipating what Weller was about to say. "Zapata, you want to come with me and help?"

"No thanks," Zapata said quietly. "I'm sure you can get some other agents to help you. I think I'll just hang out here for a while."

Reade looked like he was about to argue, but Borden quickly stepped in. "If you wouldn't mind some company, I'd like to stick around myself for a little bit."

Zapata frowned. "Fine. Just don't try to analyze me. I don't need it."

If she didn't need it, the prospect of being in his presence wouldn't have put her immediately on the defensive, but Borden didn't argue. "I wouldn't dream of it, Agent Zapata. I'm here as a friend; nothing more. Agent Weller, I assume you're going to be the first to go in to see Jane?"

Kurt was just about to answer in the affirmative when Agent Rose appeared in the doorway. She was breathing quickly and her eyes were alight with excitement. "Yes, Agent? What is it?" he asked, impatient at the interruption, in a hurry for the nurse to appear and take him back to Jane.

"The NYPD caught Jane's shooter," Rose informed him. "Two patrol officers were on their lunch break nearby when word of the shooting went out over the radio and they spotted him exiting an abandoned building with a gun case. They were able to apprehend him without incident, and he's being transferred to our office as we speak."

Well, that was a stroke of unexpected good luck. The first they'd had in a long, long time. Kurt ran a frustrated hand through his hair as he weighed his options. "I need to go talk to him." It killed him to contemplate leaving Jane at this moment, but he had some questions for the man that couldn't wait.

Fortunately, Patterson recognized his dilemma and offered a solution. "Why don't you go back to see Jane for a few minutes and then head back to the office with Agent Rose to deal with this? I'll watch over her till you get back. I promise I'll call you if there's the slightest change in her condition," she reassured him as he continued to agonize over the decision.

Kurt blew out a breath, recognizing that he had no alternative right now. He couldn't be in two places at once, and unfortunately, he was needed most urgently at the office at this moment. "Okay. I'll set up a security detail to watch over Jane, and once they arrive, I'll head out. Thanks, Patterson."

Patterson hugged him fiercely. "We're going to get through this. And Jane will be fine. You'll see. She's survived much worse than this." Emotionally, if not physically.

Kurt simply nodded, not willing to voice his own doubts on the issue. He needed the hope her words evoked, even if he didn't entirely believe them, needed her sunny spirit to carry him—carry _them_ —through the dark days that were looming. He had a feeling things were going to get worse before they got better. _If_ they got better. He forced that thought aside as he made the call to get the protective detail in place. He was just hanging up the phone when a petite woman in scrubs appeared in the doorway.

"Agent Weller?" The nurse smiled as she walked over to him, extending a hand, and he automatically shook hers. "I'm Melody Zanetti. I've spoken with Dr. Peters and I'll be personally taking charge of your friend's care on the day shifts. Here's the list you requested." She handed him the paper, and he instantly passed it off to Reade. "If you're ready, I'll take you back to see her now."

He would never be ready for that. Kurt swallowed hard and gave her a brisk nod as he turned to follow her without a backwards glance, feeling his friends' eyes on him until he disappeared from sight. He did his best to steel himself for what lay ahead as he walked through the doors of the ICU, but nothing could have prepared him for his first glimpse of Jane in that bed.

She looked so small, so still. She was as pale as the sheets she was lying on, and had a number of tubes and wires running from her body to the nearby monitors, their beeping sounding unnaturally loud in the otherwise eerie silence. He froze just inside the doorway, his feet refusing to carry him any further.

"Talk to her," Nurse Zanetti urged as Agent Weller remained frozen in place, shifting from one foot to the other nervously. She had seen that same reaction in countless numbers of patients' loved ones over her long career. Apparently, medical machinery was more intimidating to law enforcement personnel than facing down crazy people with guns.

Kurt glanced at her. "What good will that do? She's in a coma. She can't hear me."

"Actually . . ." Zanetti waited until he met her eyes, "recent studies have suggested that patients _can_ hear their loved ones' voices. Those who have loved ones telling them familiar stories often regain consciousness more quickly and have a better overall recovery time." She waited a moment for that to sink in and then slipped from the room to give them privacy.

That was all well and good for patients who _had_ their memories, but Kurt doubted it would do much good in Jane's case. They had only had a few short months together, and so many of those were bad. The last thing he wanted to do was cause her to retreat _deeper_ into the coma. Still, at this point, it didn't seem like he had much to lose. "Hey, Jane," he greeted hoarsely as he approached her bed, hesitating a moment before covering her right hand with his. "I, uh . . . I don't really know what to say to you right now."

He used his free hand to drag the chair over to her bedside, unwilling to let go of her hand for even a moment, and took a seat. "You saved my life today. And as much as I'd like to be angry with you for sacrificing yourself, I can't be . . . because I would have done exactly the same thing myself." He shook his head a little. "I'd forgotten that, how much we were alike in that respect. Ever since . . . ever since the truth about you came out, I've been convincing myself that it was all an act for you, that you were playing us all for fools . . . but you weren't, were you? We were the fools. _I_ was the fool."

Kurt leaned forward, resting his elbows on the bed, and sandwiched Jane's icy hand between both of his own in a vain attempt to warm it. "I know I don't have the right to ask anything of you at this point, but please . . . come back to us. Come back to _me_. I know our attitudes may not have made it seem like it lately, but we need you. _I_ need you." His pride be damned, he would continue telling Jane that over and over if it would help her return to them. Nothing mattered at this point but her wellbeing. He placed a gentle kiss to the back of her hand to emphasize the truth of what he was saying. Anything to help her believe he wasn't just selling her a bill of goods to get her to open her eyes.

He lost track of how long he sat there, repeating that plea over and over, until a knock on the glass startled him out of his daze and he looked up to see one of the agents from Jane's original security detail stationed outside. _Time to go._ "I have to leave for a while," he told her, pressing another kiss to her hand to reassure her, and then stood up. "The NYPD caught your shooter and I need to have a conversation with him. But don't worry, I'll be back as soon as I can. Patterson will stay with you until I get back. You're not ever gonna be alone, Jane."

He gave her fingers one last, brief squeeze before exiting the room without a backwards glance and heading out to the waiting room. "You can head on back now, Patterson. Ready to go, Agent Rose?"

"Hold on, Weller," Borden interrupted as Agent Rose got to her feet. "You can't leave without telling us about Jane. How is she?"

 _Lifeless_ , Kurt thought, but bit back the word with an effort and forced a smile. "She's holding her own." He turned on his heel and left before they could question him further. Before he could lose the fragile hold he had on his self-control at the moment and give in to the tears stinging his eyes. Too much was riding on this investigation for him to lose his cool now.

The three of them that remained in the waiting room were left staring after Weller's retreating back. "Well, that wasn't very hopeful," Zapata commented after a long moment.

Patterson did her best to remain optimistic. "Weller said she's holding her own. As long as Jane's fighting, we owe it to her to be there for her." Her gaze softened as she studied Zapata. "Would you like to go back to see her for a few minutes?"

"No, thanks." Zapata clenched her jaw as she turned to look out the window. "But tell her I'm thinking of her." For what it was worth. Which she was guessing was not much.

Patterson cast a helpless glance at Borden, and he motioned for her to go on, to let him handle this. "Why don't you want to go see Jane?" he asked once Patterson had left the room.

Zapata shrugged. "She won't want to see me anyway. It's no secret that I haven't been very nice to her lately, Doc." A fact he'd done his best to tactfully address at all of her recent sessions. If only she hadn't been too bullheaded to listen to him before it was too late.

"Of course she will," Borden said gently. "Jane is one of the most forgiving people I know." She'd blamed herself more intensely than even the team did for the events that had transpired, and she had told him at nearly every one of their sessions that they had every right to be angry with her. That she deserved their hatred and scorn. "She'll want to hear your voice as much as she does Agent Weller's or Patterson's."

"You know what the last thing Patterson did when she saw her today was?" Zapata burst out. "She gave her a hug and no doubt told her everything would be okay in time. You know what the last thing I said to her was? That she would shoot us in the back if we gave her half a chance. And five minutes later, she was bleeding out in Weller's arms from the bullet she'd taken in the back to _save_ his life. I can't ask her to forgive me for that. I can't forgive myself for _that._ The best thing I can do for her right now is to stay far the hell away from her."

"Did you want Jane to get shot?" Borden asked quietly.

Zapata turned to him, shocked. "No, of course not. I've said a lot of things to try to hurt her the way she did me— _us_ —but I never wished physical harm on her. I would never have said that if I'd known . . ."

"But you didn't know," Borden told her earnestly. "How could you have? We've all said things we've regretted, Agent Zapata, but what happened to Jane today was _not_ your fault. What you are responsible for is how you move forward from this. Regardless of whether you try to pick up the pieces of your friendship, you're going to have to find a way to put aside your differences and work together in harmony."

He paused for a moment to let that sink in. "Only you can decide how you want to move forward, but at the risk of sounding impartial, for what it's worth, I do believe Jane's remorse is genuine."

"I know, Doc," Zapata agreed as she resumed staring out the window. It wasn't necessary for him to tell her that. If Jane didn't truly care about them, Weller would be dead right now.

She owed her a very large apology.

"You're wrong about one thing, though," she said after a long moment, turning away from the window for the final time and coming to sit next to him. "It's not up to me any longer how we move forward; Jane's earned the right to make that decision." Assuming she survived. "I would like us to be friends again, but I wouldn't even know how to begin to bridge that gap."

Borden smiled as he leaned forward and squeezed Zapata's shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry, Agent Zapata. The three of us will figure that out together."

He only hoped he could do the same for the rest of the team.

xxx

Kurt did a double-take as he and Reade walked into the observation room and he saw Jane's shooter through the one-way glass. He'd only caught sight of the man once before, but his face was permanently imprinted on Kurt's memory. "That's Cade."

"Yep," Reade replied coolly. "Rumors of his death were clearly greatly exaggerated."

Kurt felt as if he had been punched in the gut for the second time that day. "Jane couldn't have known. If she had . . ."

"She would have told us immediately," Reade agreed. "I've believed her all along when she said everything she did was to try to protect us, and she proved that beyond the shadow of a doubt this morning."

Kurt rounded on him. "If you thought that, why . . . why didn't you speak up for her?" he demanded angrily.

Reade sighed. "You'll never know how much I wish I had. But understanding why she acted as she did didn't mean I didn't feel every bit as betrayed as the rest of you. And even when my anger cooled enough to be open to repairing our relationship, the rest of you were still so upset with her that I felt it would be more detrimental to the team as a whole to do so." He would regret that for the rest of his life. "I decided to just follow your lead and maintain my distance until everyone was on the same page again regarding her." He honestly hadn't thought it would take Weller this long to come around. "I'm sorry, Kurt."

"It's not your fault," Kurt replied, turning his attention back to the window. Cade was leaning back in his chair as if he hadn't a care in the world, feet casually crossed, smirking at the glass they were currently peering through. Kurt's blood boiled. This man was responsible for Jane lying in the hospital on death's doorstep and he was acting for all the world like an invited guest. "I'm going to go talk to him." He stormed out and was halfway to the room next door before Reade could open his mouth to suggest that maybe that wasn't such a good idea.

"Agent Weller," Cade greeted mockingly as the door was flung open and the man stormed into the room. "Nice to see you again. Tell me, how is our mutual friend?"

" _Friend?_ " Kurt shot back, stung by the man's audacity. "The last time I checked, _friends_ didn't shoot one another in the back. And she's alive, no thanks to you. If she doesn't remain that way, you'll wish you had turned that gun on yourself as well."

Cade chuckled. "And taken all that valuable information about Shepherd's organization and your Jane Doe's real identity to the grave with me? I can't believe you really mean that."

Kurt frowned. Cade was entirely too chatty and relaxed, which in his experience meant that the bastard thought he held all the cards he needed to but his freedom. "You just attempted to murder an assistant director of the FBI and shot one of our consultants. No matter what you tell me, you're not walking out of here a free man."

"Tell me," Cade queried, "what irritates you more: that I was aiming for you, or that I shot your precious Jane? It must have been hard to watch the woman you love take a bullet for you."

Kurt automatically opened his mouth to refute that statement and then thought better of dignifying it with a response. To tell the truth, he wasn't sure _how_ he felt about Jane at the moment. "What do you want, Cade?"

"I thought we might come to a mutually beneficial arrangement," Cade offered. "I'll tell you all I know about Shepherd's organization and Jane's past in exchange for immunity from any, uh, crimes that I may have committed while I was a member of that group, and witness protection."

Kurt's eyes narrowed as he considered the offer. On the face of it, it was a good deal, but Cade had just shown his cards and now he had the upper hand. "Crimes you committed while a member of that group," he repeated slowly. "I take it today's shooting and the previous attacks on Jane aren't a part of those offenses. You went rogue, didn't you? You went rogue, and now you want us to protect you from Shepherd and his henchmen."

"Oscar killed my best friend in cold blood," Cade said sharply. "He deserved to suffer just like I was. I had a right to avenge myself, but Jane took that opportunity away from me. She had no right to do that."

"So you decided to shoot me to make her suffer," Kurt guessed. "Only she got in your way and ruined your plans yet again. Tell me, why is it you think I'd make a deal with you when you didn't spare a thought for the suffering you'd be inflicting on the people _I_ care about by pulling that trigger? Give me one good reason I shouldn't just turn you loose on the street and let Shepherd and his people deal with you."

Cade's cockiness vanished in an instant. "I admit that wasn't my finest moment." He'd been sorry the moment he pulled the trigger. Jane had been a friend— _was_ a friend—and she had been completely innocent in what Oscar had done to Marcos. "For what it's worth, I don't bear either of you any further ill will, and I'd like to make it up to you if you'll let me."

"You understand you'll still be facing charges for what you did today," Kurt cautioned.

Cade nodded solemnly. "I do."

"Okay, then." Kurt read him his rights. "We have a deal. Start talking."

Cade took a deep breath and cast his mind back to when he had first met Jane, first became allied with Shepherd, as he began his tale.

xxx

It was well after nightfall before Kurt was able to return to Jane's bedside, brain still reeling from all he had learned. Cade had given them solid information, and a lot of it, some of it quite time-sensitive, and he, Reade, and Zapata had debated for hours on how best to act on it. Ultimately, the three of them had decided there was nothing further they could do tonight and had gone their separate ways, Reade and Zapata to a bar to unwind and Kurt home to care for Bethany. The kitten had been confused when Jane hadn't come home with him, and he had spent quite some time lavishing attention on her before returning to the hospital.

He'd assured her that her mommy would be home soon, but as he once again caught a glimpse of Jane, he wasn't so sure. He hadn't expected a miraculous improvement in her condition while he was away, but she was just as pale and still and lifeless as she'd been when he left this morning.

Patterson was curled up in the bedside chair fast asleep and he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder to awaken her. She sat up with a start, automatically clenching her hand into a fist to lash out at him, and he took a hasty step back. "Easy, Patterson. It's just me." He smiled at her as the sleep faded from her eyes and recognition dawned. "Sorry I startled you."

"No problem," she assured him as she unfolded herself and wearily got up. "Sorry I fell asleep. I promise I was awake most of the time. There's been no change all day, though." She hesitated. "I heard from Tasha that Jane's shooter was Cade and he was talking?"

"Yeah." Kurt sighed as he took the seat Patterson had just vacated. "He told us everything that we need to know to take Shepherd's organization down, as well as filling in the blanks on Jane. Apparently, they've been friends for years."

"Are you going to tell her?" Patterson asked quietly, and both of them glanced toward Jane's prone figure as if she might hear them and wake up demanding to hear it.

Kurt nodded slowly. "I don't think I have any other choice. She deserves the truth." Even though it was so tragic and heartbreaking all he wanted to do was gather her up in his arms and shield her from it. Just as she'd shielded him today.

"Okay, then," Patterson said when it became clear Kurt wasn't going to say anymore. She was already feeling like a third wheel in the room. "I've been talking to her, but maybe she'll do better hearing your voice. I think I'll grab a bite to eat and then head home." She gave him a quick but fierce hug. "She'll be OK. We all will. Don't lose hope."

"I won't," Kurt said automatically, and Patterson gave him a reassuring smile as she left. "Hey, Jane," he greeted just as he had that morning, sandwiching her hand between his once more. "Sorry it took so long for me to get back here, but I've got lots to tell you. I need you to wake up for me so I can fill you in on everything you've missed." Everything she had been wanting to know. "You won't believe what I've learned."

He leaned forward, peering at her intently as if he expected her to awaken any moment and demand for him to fill her in, but of course that didn't happen. He felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness sweep over him as he continued talking, and time dragged by with no response.

 _Was this how Jane had felt the past month and a half?_ he wondered. _All alone, even when she was right next to him, and surrounded by a whole building full of people?_

It was the loneliest feeling he had ever experienced, and he was overcome with guilt for putting her through it. If only he had known then what he knew now, he never would have done it. He prayed she would forgive him, but he wouldn't blame her if she never did.

But none of that mattered now. The only thing that mattered was . . . "Please, Jane," Kurt whispered urgently, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Please come back to me. Please don't die."

 _I need you,_ he started to add, but the words stuck in his throat. He had no right to place any further demands on her, no right to ask anything of her at all, really. She had been the best friend he'd ever had, and he'd thrown that relationship away like it meant nothing.

It was only now, when he was faced with the potential of losing her forever, that he realized it had meant everything. It _did_ mean everything.

If life—and Jane—granted him a second chance, he was going to spend every day for the rest of his life making it up to her.

It would never make up for what he had put her through, but it was all he could do.

He could only pray it would be enough.


	4. Chapter 4

I do not own Blindspot or its characters.

* * *

 **A/N:** **One more chapter to go, and then possibly an epilogue. I appreciate all the wonderful reviews. You guys are amazing!**

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A day passed. Two days, then three, and before Kurt knew it, a week had gone by. One week since Jane had landed in that hospital bed because of him, and still there was no change. He left her side only long enough to go home to shower and change and care for Bethany, as he had promised her, and then he returned. He delegated the rounding up of Shepherd and his organization to Reade and Zapata, with Patterson's support, and he stuck to Jane's side like glue.

Dr. Peters was trying to remain optimistic on his daily visits, but Kurt could tell Jane's failure to rally from her coma was starting to rattle the man. He didn't need the doctor to tell him that the longer she remained in that state, the less chance there was that she would come out of it. His worst fear was that he had given her so little incentive to _want_ to wake up that she would choose to remain in that state of limbo forever.

And so he talked to her, endlessly, just as Nurse Zanetti had recommended on that first day. He shared his memories of their time together, both good and bad, and even, though it was hard for him at first, his feelings surrounding those events. He would have liked to have glossed over the recent past, but he knew she wouldn't have stood for it if she were awake to call him on it, so he was as honest with her as he knew she would want him to be.

Talking about his feelings got easier as he went along, and when he ran out of stories about the two of them, he shifted to telling her about his childhood. He shared memories even Sarah didn't know about, events that had scarred him and shaped him into the man he was today. He talked about his college experience, about how he had been so focused on his career goals that he hadn't taken the time to really enjoy it, and about his time at Quantico and his early years with the FBI.

He talked about anything and everything he could think of to encourage Jane to wake up, pausing frequently to implore her to open her eyes, and when he ran out of personal topics, he began reading to her. He brought in newspapers, magazines, books, and he read aloud to her until his voice was hoarse.

The others came in to see her as well, and he always vacated the room when they arrived, using the time to stretch his legs, deal with any pressing FBI business, and replenish his stash from the vending machines by the cafeteria. Zapata, especially, seemed to relish the privacy, and her eyes were almost always tear-stained when she left. Borden and Patterson had taken to coming together more and more of late, and Kurt suspected that his tech whiz was soon going to be seeing another shrink. Reade was his usual stoic self, but even he began to sport a worried look as the days passed with no visible improvement.

Finally, on the eighth day, Kurt had had enough. Dr. Peters made his rounds early, as usual, and when he once again suggested that perhaps Jane's body just needed a little more time to heal, it was all Kurt could do not to demand how long, exactly, that would be. Taking his frustration out on the doctor wouldn't help, but something had to give. The team couldn't go on like this. _He_ couldn't go on like this.

He sat in silence long after the man left, all but ignoring the night nurse as she came and went, and formulated a plan. If their voices and touch wouldn't serve to bring Jane back to them, perhaps something else's—or _someone_ else's—would.

He left the hospital as soon as Reade arrived to spell him and headed straight home. Bethany met him at the door, just as she had every day for more than a week, and appeared just as disappointed to see that Jane wasn't with him. "Don't worry, cat," he assured her as he set a bowl of kitten chow down on the floor in front of her, "you're going to be seeing her very soon." Even if he had to flash his badge at the hospital to get the feline past the well-meaning medical personnel who would no doubt object.

Seemingly reassured by his words, Bethany dug into her breakfast with a vengeance, and Kurt headed back to his room to catch a nap. Whether it was the relief of finally having a plan to help Jane or the exhaustion of the past days and weeks catching up with him, he didn't know, but he slept more deeply than he had in months. He slept much longer than he had intended to.

He woke up to find Bethany perched on his chest, staring at him impatiently, as if to say, _I'm ready to go. What's taking you so long?_ "All right, cat," he grumbled. "I'm up; I'm up. Let me get a quick shower, and we'll be off." She immediately jumped down and he shook his head as she meandered off, amazed at how she seemed to understand him. "Now if you can just get through to that owner of yours, we'd all really appreciate it." Even Patterson's eternal optimism had begun to wear thin the past couple days. He didn't know what any of them would do if Jane didn't wake up soon.

 _No, he couldn't think like that_ , he reminded himself as he cleaned up and grabbed a quick bite to eat. Jane would be okay; she just had to be. After all, he was bringing a secret weapon with him today to ensure it. For such a little kitten, Bethany had an interesting knack of getting her own way, and what she clearly wanted right now was Jane back home. He was glad their interests were so aligned. He hadn't been here much since Jane got shot, but even though it hadn't been the most welcoming abode before, it hadn't felt like home at all since then.

He couldn't wait to show her just how different it would be this time around.

It was well after ten before he made it back to the hospital, Bethany tucked in her little carrier under his FBI jacket, as inconspicuous as he could make her to the casual observer. Fortunately, she seemed to sense the gravity of the occasion and wasn't meowing as she normally did when she travelled.

Tasha had replaced Reade by Jane's bedside. Her eyes narrowed as he entered the room, honing in on the object under his arm. "Is that—"

"Just a little something I thought might help," Kurt said as he set Bethany's carrier down and gently pulled her out. His look turned sheepish as Tasha's look turned amused as he cradled the kitten to his chest. "Well . . . it can't hurt, in any event. We've tried everything else."

Tasha nodded slowly. "I hope it works." She would give anything for Jane to wake up so she could apologize to her, but as much as she knew she should stick around for Weller in case this latest idea of his failed, she just couldn't do it. She couldn't sit here another minute and watch her lay there . . . silent, still. "I'll check in with you later." She started to leave and then turned back to hug him. "Call if you need me. Or any of us."

"I will," Kurt assured her, hugging her back tightly, sensing she needed the reassurance just as much as she was attempting to give it to him. He turned to Jane as she left and set Bethany on the bed at her side, placing her hand on the kitten. Bethany, bless her heart, instantly snuggled closer to Jane and began to purr.

Kurt watched the two of them for a long moment, half-expecting Jane to instantly open her eyes to greet the kitten she so loved, but when that didn't happen, he pulled the chair over and took a seat at her bedside, laying his hand over hers and idly stroking both her and Bethany. "Jane," he murmured in an agonized voice, "please come back to us. We need you. I—I need you. I'm so sorry for . . ." His voice choked up and he trailed off.

At first he thought he'd imagined it, the slight twitch of her fingers against his, but after a long moment he felt it again, stronger this time. His eyes flew to her face and he was stunned to see her green eyes open a crack, looking back at him.

"Nothing . . . to apologize for," Jane whispered weakly, attempting a reassuring smile. Kurt looked like hell, and she wondered how long he had been here. How long had _she_ been here? She attempted to reason it out, but her fuzzy brain wouldn't cooperate with her.

"What is it, Jane?" Kurt asked as her brow furrowed in frustration. "Do you need something?"

Now that he mentioned it, she would kill for something to drink. Her throat was more dry than she could ever remember it being. "Water," she rasped.

"Okay." Kurt stood up and brushed a stray lock of hair back from her eyes, smiling down at her when she instinctively leaned into his touch, and cupped her cheek as he used his free hand to press the call button for the nurse. "It'll just be a minute, all right?"

Jane nodded, trying hard to focus on getting her bearings, on the ecstatic kitten nuzzling her hand, anything but how wonderful it was to see that warm look in Kurt's eyes directed at her once more and how nice his fingers felt against her skin. _He's just relieved that you're okay_ , she told herself. And knowing him, feeling more than a little guilty that she had been shot on his watch. Once those emotions faded, the distance would return.

Nurse Zanetti bustled in. "You're finally awake. Good. It's nice to see you've rejoined the land of the living."

 _Finally awake? How long had she been out?_ Jane wondered once again, but before she could ask, the woman caught sight of Bethany.

"There's a cat in my ICU," Nurse Zanetti said as she approached the bed. She turned to Kurt and Jane stifled a laugh at the expression on her face. "Agent Weller, why is there a cat in my ICU?"

Kurt looked like a deer caught in the headlights as he let go of her hand and stepped back. "She's mine," Jane spoke up hastily. "She's a . . . a therapy cat." The nurse's eyebrows rose, and she hastened to clarify. "You're a nurse, so you must have heard of support animals. She's one of those. I have, uh . . . emotional anxiety. Due to my amnesia." She didn't dare look at Kurt as she did her best to keep a straight face.

"Emotional anxiety, huh?" Nurse Zanetti asked dryly. "And yet you're a consultant for the FBI? Please tell me they don't allow you to have a gun in that state."

"No," Jane said softly, her amusement instantly gone. "You don't have to worry about that. They don't."

Clearly, she'd touched a sore subject there. "Just don't let the doctors see her," Nurse Zanetti cautioned. "How do you feel?"

Jane had been taking stock of her aches and pains. "My shoulder hurts a little, but otherwise, not bad."

"Good. I'll let Dr. Peters know you're awake as soon as we're done here. I'm sure he's going to want you up and walking as soon as possible. It might be best if your . . . therapy cat is out of here before he arrives," she cautioned.

"I'll call one of my team to come get her right now," Kurt promised, reaching for his phone as he turned away to do just that.

"Patterson," Jane insisted, reaching for the bed control to raise herself into more of a sitting position. Bethany didn't like just anyone, but she was sure the temperamental kitten would get along with the gentle blonde. She was just glad Kurt wasn't leaving her to take Bethany home himself.

"Patterson it is," Kurt agreed and quickly made the call. He had to hold the phone away from his ear for a moment when she learned Jane was awake, and she squealed again as she promised to pass the news on to the others before coming to get Bethany. He turned back to Jane just as Nurse Zanetti asked if she could get her anything.

"She was thirsty," Kurt mentioned, wanting to erase the haunting sadness lingering in Jane's eyes. Wanting to show her that he did care somehow. It killed him that he had failed her so utterly she thought the only living creature who loved her any longer was the stray cat he had given her to avoid talking to her.

"I'll get you some water as soon as I'm finished here," Nurse Zanetti promised. She checked a couple of the machines, asked Jane a few more questions, and left to get the requested beverage.

"Is there anything else you need, Jane?" Kurt asked as soon as she was gone. "Anything I can get for you?"

She would have liked to ask him to hold her hand again, as he had been when she first woke up, but she didn't know how to frame the request. She gazed up at him with pleading eyes and finally lifted her hand off Bethany, wiggling her fingers slightly. He grasped it as soon as he registered the movement, gripping it firmly. Her eyes teared up as she returned the pressure, holding on as tightly as she could. She never wanted to let go. She never wanted _him_ to let go.

But of course he did.

Nurse Zanetti returned with a pitcher of water and a cup with a straw, and he let go of her hand in order to pour her a glass, holding it up to her lips as she took several long sips. "Thanks," she told him as she laid back against the pillow.

"You took a bullet for me," Kurt shrugged as he sat back down. "It's the least I could do."

Jane swallowed hard and glanced away to hide her hurt as his words brought her crashing back to reality. Gratitude. Of course that was why he was here. She had mistaken that warm look in his eyes as affection for her rather than appreciation of her actions, and she bit back an unreasonable surge of anger. She would have done exactly the same thing for exactly the same reason if their roles had been reversed.

It just wouldn't have been the _only_ reason.

An awkward silence descended on the room. Kurt didn't quite know what to do with himself now that Jane was comfortable, and Jane couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes any longer, busying herself with playing with Bethany, who was happily making up for lost time. Both of them were incredibly relieved when Patterson arrived.

"Jane!" Patterson exclaimed happily, rushing over to give her a gentle hug. "It's so good to see you awake. We've all been so worried about you."

Jane did her best to hide her disbelief as she returned the hug as best she was able. She didn't doubt they would have felt bad if she hadn't survived—or at least most of them—but her death would have been a brief inconvenience to them, nothing more. In a week or so, they would have gone on with their lives as if they'd never known her. She wouldn't be surprised if Tasha, at least, even thought it was justice for Mayfair. "Hi, Patterson."

The two of them talked for a few minutes before Patterson glanced at Kurt with a question in her eyes. He shook his head slightly, and Jane's heart sank. What secrets were they keeping from her now? Her brain started firing questions at her a mile a minute as she came fully alert.

Kurt cursed inwardly as the wary look returned to Jane's eyes. For a few moments as she'd chatted with Patterson, she'd looked almost . . . happy again. And given what he'd learned of her past, she deserved it, in spades. Why did reality always have to intrude?

He cleared his throat. "I hate to break this up, but the doctor could come in any time, and Bethany needs to be gone before then."

"Right! Of course." Patterson flushed. "I'm really glad you're feeling better, Jane. Call me if you need anything, okay? Day or night, I'll be here. I'll drop back by to check on you later." She hugged Jane once more as Kurt placed Bethany in her carrier and then exited as quickly as she had come.

Jane glanced back at Kurt as soon as Patterson was out of sight. She couldn't wait any longer to have the most pressing of her questions answered. "How long was I out?"

"You were . . . It's been eight days since you were shot," Kurt answered in a voice that wasn't quite steady. "We were starting to worry you weren't going to wake up on us."

The tremor in his voice was nearly her undoing. Jane closed her eyes as she fought that tiny sliver of hope, not yet completely extinguished, that perhaps he _did_ care, after all. Perhaps he did still feel about her the same way she cared for him. It hardly mattered now, in any event. _He deserves someone much better than you,_ she reminded herself. "I'm sorry I worried you."

"Jane," Kurt started, but before he could get her name out—or figure out what else he wanted to say—Dr. Peters walked into the room.

"Hello, Miss Doe. I'm Dr. Peters," he introduced himself. "I'm the surgeon who operated on your shoulder when you arrived."

Jane felt a bolt of fear shoot through her as she glanced from him to the sling on her arm and then back over to Kurt. Was this what he and Patterson had been keeping from her earlier? Was mobility in her shoulder going to be permanently limited because of this—making her useless to them? "Am I . . . Is it going to be all right?"

Dr. Peters smiled. "You've got some intense physical therapy ahead of you, but I would say with a lot of work on your part, you don't have anything to worry about. You should regain full use of your arm."

Jane couldn't hold in the relieved breath that escaped her. "Great. When can I start?"

"Soon," Dr. Peters promised her. "Now that you're awake, I'll have a therapist come by and evaluate you. For now, if you feel up to it, I'd like you to start getting up and walking."

So would she. She couldn't remember much of her former life, but she knew instinctively that she hated hospitals. "I'll do that right now. When can I go ho—when can I leave?" she amended. She assumed she would be going back to Kurt's, given his current state of _gratitude_ toward her, but his apartment wasn't home and it never could be.

She wondered if she'd ever had a place that felt like home or if she ever would in the future.

"Soon," Dr. Peters said again. "Maybe even tomorrow, if all goes well today. Let's see how the walking goes, and get some solid food in you, and I'll evaluate you in the morning. If all is well, I don't see any reason I won't be able to discharge you."

"Good." Jane raised the bed even more to make it easier for her to get out of it. Dr. Peters lowered the rail, and she carefully swung her legs over the side. "Let's see how this goes."

"I appreciate your enthusiasm, but let me call in a nurse to help you," Dr. Peters cautioned. "At least this first time. The last thing we need for you to do is take a fall because you're not quite steady on your feet yet."

"No need, Doc," Kurt said, hastening to steady Jane as she ignored the doctor's warning and started to rise. "I'll take care of her." He waited until she reached out with her good hand to grasp the IV pole before coming around to her other side and gently slipping an arm around her waist, careful not to jostle her injured arm.

Jane tried to ignore how good it felt to have him to lean against and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. She had underestimated how much eight days in bed would affect her, she quickly realized, but she gritted her teeth, determined to soldier on.

Kurt, however, was having none of it. He could feel her body shaking with the effort to continue as they reached the end of the hallway and gently turned Jane back in the direction of her room. "That's enough for now. We can go again later if you're feeling up to it." Maybe after she got some food in her, she would be able to go a bit further.

Jane would have liked to argue, but that would have taken more energy than she currently had. She leaned more and more heavily against Kurt as they made their way back to her room, and he painstakingly helped her back into bed.

"Rest now, Jane," he told her, tenderly tucking the blanket back around her. "I'll be right here if you need anything, and I'll wake you up when lunch comes." Her eyes were already closing even as he finished speaking, and he couldn't resist placing a gentle kiss to her forehead before resuming his seat.

His mind returned to his most pressing problem as he watched her sleep. How on earth was he going to find the words to tell her what they had discovered about her past? She had already been through so much, albeit some of it of her own doing, and yet she continually found the courage to face each new day as it came, to try to rise above the ashes of her past and make the most of the new start she had granted herself.

She truly was the bravest woman he'd ever known.

And he'd realized in the last few days, just as Cade had suggested to him in the interrogation room, he was absolutely, irrevocably in love with her.

But after all he had put her through, it would do him no good to admit that now.

xxx

As it turned out, they didn't have an opportunity to talk until he brought Jane home.

Not that she would call it that. Kurt watched Jane out of the corner of his eye as she carefully took a seat on the couch, her face lighting up as Bethany leaped into her lap. It was the first hint of emotion he'd seen on her face since she'd woken up from her nap yesterday afternoon. He was still at a loss to understand why she had reverted to the chilly attitude they had been using on one another before she got shot, but one thing had become glaringly apparent to him in the last twenty-four hours: she wasn't going to be ready to forgive him anytime soon.

Jane could feel Kurt's eyes on her as she stroked Bethany's soft fur. She hated being so cool to him when he was being unfailingly sweet to her, but she couldn't allow her emotions to get any more tangled up in him. One day soon, she would be well and he would be free of his perceived duty to her, and encouraging his closeness now would only make their inevitable separation all the more painful.

Unfortunately, everything he was doing for her was only making her love him all the more.

Kurt sighed as he picked up the file folder on the dining room table and took a seat on the other end of the couch. "Jane. We need to talk." There was no avoiding this any longer, much as he'd like to.

Jane's hands stilled as she looked over at him. "I know. I could tell you and Patterson were keeping something from me yesterday." Was this the part where he told her he was arranging another safe house for her as soon as she was able to be on her own?

"The NYPD caught your shooter," Kurt began. "It was Cade."

She hadn't been expecting that. Jane was stunned at first, but the more she thought about it, the more sense it made. "He's the one who sent me that text right before he took the shot. _You shouldn't have interfered._ He was angry at me for killing Oscar, so he decided to get back at me by shooting you."

"He let vengeance cloud his thinking," Kurt agreed, wondering if it would have affected her as dramatically as her voice seemed to suggest. "He claims to have regretted it once he took the shot, but of course, by then it was too late."

Jane nodded slowly. "So you questioned him, then?"

"I did," Kurt confirmed. "He's going to face charges for shooting you, but we gave him immunity for the crimes he committed as a member of Shepherd's organization in exchange for information leading to their capture."

"And he provided that?" Jane felt as if she'd had the wind knocked out of her when Kurt nodded. All this time she had been searching for answers about herself and she had slept right through getting them. "So Shepherd is in custody?"

Kurt's eyes hardened. "Not yet, but it's only a matter of time. We took down most of his organization simultaneously, but it was so widespread that one of his people tipped him off that we were coming. Allie's on his trail, though, and she won't rest until he's brought to justice."

"And the people in his organization . . . Are they . . ." Jane wasn't quite sure what she wanted to ask, or how to frame the question.

"Shepherd recruited children, mostly from the foster care system that no one would look too hard for when they went missing, and raised them to take strategic positions in the government where they could act as double agents for him." Kurt's voice revealed his fury at the callousness of the man's actions. He had targeted the most vulnerable in society, the orphaned and abandoned and abused, and exploited their desire for affection and approval to further his own twisted agenda.

"Cade identified those children for us. We arrested a number of them that passed classified information on to Shepherd, but fortunately most of them hadn't actually committed any crimes yet. They'll lose their jobs and security clearances, of course, but they won't wind up in prison."

"And was I . . . one of those children?" Jane held her breath as she waited for Kurt's answer. If so, she doubted she would be lucky enough to be in the latter group. She had actually infiltrated the FBI, after all, and passed along information to Oscar, however innocently. Ignorance of the group's true purpose might mitigate her sentence somewhat, but it wouldn't keep her from being convicted of the crime. "Am I going to prison, Kurt? Is that what you've been afraid to tell me?"

Over his dead body. "Not a chance," Kurt said with conviction. "The federal prosecutor already declined to bring charges against you for your role in Mayfair's murder—" he wished he had phrased that better as he saw her wince, "—and Cade didn't tell us of any criminal activity in your past that would justify bringing charges against you." He saw her begin to relax marginally. "In fact, you've become a hero to the public since you saved the life of an assistant director of the FBI and simultaneously brought down the group plotting the overthrow of our government. The office has been fielding numerous requests for interviews once you're up to it. You're quite the celebrity, Jane."

There was no way she would be accepting even one of those requests for interviews. Notoriety was the last thing she needed or wanted. It was the last thing she would have ever sought for herself. "Tell them no."

"If that's what you want." Kurt was more than a little relieved that she wouldn't be pursuing her fifteen minutes of fame. Not that he'd ever seriously thought she would. "And to answer your earlier question . . . Yes. You were one of those children." He picked up the file folder he had dropped on the coffee table and held it out to her. It contained the portion of the transcript of Cade's interrogation relating to Jane. "This will tell you everything you want to know about who you were . . . who you _are_. Cade's known you for a long time, so he was able to fill in nearly all the blanks about your past."

"No." Jane shook her head, refusing to take it. A few days ago she wouldn't have been able to peruse it fast enough, but being shot had put a lot of things into perspective for her. She'd chosen her side; there was no going back now. "No, you had it right the first time. That's who I was, not who I am. Whoever that woman was is not someone I want to be any longer. I'm Jane now, and if it's all the same to you . . . I'd like to stay Jane."

It was more than all right with him, but he couldn't figure out how to tell her so, to let her know how much it meant to him that she was making that choice, opting to be the better person he had told her she could. He never had been any good at expressing his emotions, and he was afraid if he opened his mouth at this moment, he would blurt out something he had promised himself he wouldn't. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and nodded, smiling a little, hoping she would understand what he was trying to say without words.

The awkward silence that descended on the room suggested she hadn't got the message.

They might be back under the same roof, but they felt further apart than ever.


	5. Chapter 5

I do not own Blindspot or its characters.

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More than a week passed before Jane felt well enough to return to the FBI office, and Kurt stayed home with her every day.

And every day, she fell a little more in love with him.

She tried to urge him to go to work in the beginning, at least for a few hours a day, to catch up on all the urgent business he'd no doubt fallen behind on while he held court at her bedside, but he was having none of it. He cheerfully shrugged off all of her attempts to get him to attend to his business, and stunned her by teasing her about trying to get rid of him when she pressed the issue, his blue eyes twinkling as he once again declined to leave.

She stopped trying after that, and little by little, his unfailing good humor chipped away at the icy façade she had hastily erected in an unsuccessful attempt to protect her heart from him. More than once, when he glanced at her with that warm look in his eyes, the thought crossed her mind that perhaps she didn't need to do so. _Gratitude_ , she reminded herself continually. _It's only gratitude._

Kurt could see the confusion in Jane's eyes when she looked at him, and the lingering wariness there only made him redouble his efforts to win back her trust. He had promised himself in the hospital that if he was granted this second chance, he would make the most of it, and he was determined not to quit until their relationship was back on solid footing once more. He might have ruined any chance at the romantic relationship he craved, but he would rather settle for her friendship than not have her in his life at all. It wasn't lost on him that she could walk out the door any time now that Shepherd's organization had been dismantled and she Phad been cleared of all charges.

By the third day, they were chatting with one another comfortably again. Kurt had driven her to her daily therapy appointment, and since it ran later than normal, he had suggested that they have lunch at a nearby Mexican restaurant he liked. She had yet to try Mexican and she was more than a little hungry, so she eagerly agreed.

Conversation flowed more easily in the neutral territory of the eatery than it had at their apartment for weeks—months—and soon the two of them were once more bantering like old friends. Kurt held his breath when they returned home but now that it had been reestablished, the camaraderie remained.

Though their discussions thus far had been superficial.

But all that changed the day she asked him to take her to visit the FBI.

"You're not well enough yet," Kurt responded, instantly dismissing the request. Physically, he knew she was strong enough to make the trip, but the team had been keeping their distance to allow her time to heal, and he knew it was going to be an emotionally charged reunion. He didn't know how she would react to that, and if he was being honest, he just wanted to keep her to himself a little bit longer.

Jane would have found that sweet, if she had known, but instead she stiffened, preparing to do battle. Kurt had been incredibly attentive during her recuperation, and while she appreciated the care he was taking of her, his hovering was beginning to wear on her nerves. "I'm not asking to go back out into the field, Kurt. I just want to drop by for a few hours to see everyone, thank them all for their Get Well presents." The sheer number of cards and flowers and gifts had been staggering to her; she had no idea so many people knew her, much less cared. "There are chairs there; I promise I'll sit down if I start to get tired."

He sighed, and she knew she was on the verge of winning the argument. She pressed her advantage. "Besides, you can't tell me there isn't work you need to get caught up on that you have to be in the office to do. We can go in early and you can do that while I visit, and we'll head home by noon. I promise."

"All right," Kurt acceded reluctantly, "but we're not going in early. I'll take you in at nine o'clock. Three hours is more than long enough for your first time back."

"Thank you, Kurt," Jane said gratefully. "And not just for agreeing to take me, but for all you've done for me this past week. I know it's because you wanted to repay me for taking that bullet for you, which wasn't necessary, but still, I . . ." She ground to a halt at the look on Kurt's face.

"You think I did all of this simply out of some misplaced sense of gratitude?" Kurt couldn't believe his ears. He couldn't believe she had so misunderstood his motives.

Jane was confused. "But . . . In the hospital, you said . . . When I asked you for that glass of water, you said it was the least you could do because I had taken a bullet for you. What was I supposed to think, Kurt?"

What indeed. Kurt groaned as he realized the implication of his careless words. Given the way things had stood between them before she got shot, what other conclusion could she have drawn? He swiftly closed the distance between them and tenderly brought a hand up to cup her cheek. "That I was an idiot who didn't realize how much you meant to him until he nearly lost you?" he asked hopefully. "One who would very much like to be your friend again if you can find it in your heart to forgive him."

"Oh, Kurt." Jane moved into his arms and hugged him as fiercely as she could, both of them mindful of her injured shoulder. "Of course I forgive you. And as far as I'm concerned, you never stopped being my friend." No amount of disagreements, no matter how bitter, would ever change that in her book.

Minutes ticked by in silence as they held one another, neither of them ever wanting to let the other go, tears streaming down both their faces. Time and time again, Kurt opened his mouth to tell Jane how much he loved her, to ask her if she might ever feel the same, and beg her to give them a chance once again, but he couldn't force the words past the lump in his throat. He couldn't bring himself to take the chance that his feelings, if unrequited, would make things so awkward between them that despite their best efforts, their friendship would eventually fall by the wayside.

He couldn't lose her again.

He stuck close to her side as they walked into the FBI the next morning, hovering protectively as agent after agent—most of whom she'd never met—welcomed her back and thanked her for her courageous actions, and steered her in the direction of Patterson's lab as quickly as possible. He wanted to make this reunion as easy as possible for Jane, and the blonde had been kinder to Jane than all of them combined.

Not that that was saying much.

Patterson was in her lab, but she wasn't alone. She and Borden were standing incredibly close, their heads bent together as they talked quietly. Kurt cleared his throat, and they both jumped as they turned to face him. "Jane!" they exclaimed in unison.

Patterson immediately rushed over and hugged her. "Oh, it's so good to see you up and around and back here." There were tears in her eyes as she drew back. "How are you feeling? Has Weller been taking good care of you?"

"Very good care," Jane assured her, smiling up at Kurt as Borden walked over. "If he ever gets tired of the FBI, he could have a second career as a nurse."

The room erupted with laughter as Kurt's face reddened. "Jane," he stage-whispered despite his embarrassment. "Darling, you weren't supposed to tell them that."

"Sorry, Weller," Patterson teased, her eyebrows raising at the endearment. "Your secret's out now. You know, I always suspected you were an armor-plated marshmallow."

Kurt shot Jane a look that said, _"You see what you've done?"_

Fortunately, Borden took pity on him and diverted the other's attention. "It is wonderful to have you back here, Jane." He gave her a gentle hug. "How's the physical therapy going?"

Jane grimaced. "Slow." Her therapist assured her she was making great progress, but it wasn't nearly quick enough for her. Despite Kurt's best attempts to keep her occupied, she was rapidly going stir-crazy in the apartment.

Of course, she could think of one activity that would prove a more adequate distraction.

Jane blinked at the inappropriate turn her thoughts had once again taken. That had been occurring with alarming frequency of late, even invading her dreams, and she suspected that was the real reason behind her frustration at being confined to those four walls. It was maddening to be under the same roof as Kurt, feeling the way she did about him and being the recipient of his solicitous attentions, and yet have him treat her as platonically as he did his little sister.

 _Something had to give,_ Jane thought now, and she was very much afraid it was going to be her. She couldn't help feeling like it might be time for her to get her own apartment once more. After all, a man like Kurt could hardly be expected to remain celibate for long, and his new girlfriend would hardly appreciate having her hanging around the place. Especially not if she wanted to stay the night. Nor would she want to put herself through the misery of watching their relationship bloom.

"Pay her no mind," Kurt told them. "Her therapist assures me she's right where she should be at this point in her recovery. She's just mad that he won't let her do more."

It was Jane's turn to frown at him in mock annoyance. "Don't you have work to do, Weller?"

Patterson exchanged a speculative look with Borden as the two of them bantered. She had never seen her boss so relaxed and happy, and the look in his eyes when he looked at Jane . . . Zapata should start taking bets on when these two would get together. She could make a killing if she wagered on a time in the near future.

Kurt shook his head. "Fine. I can tell when I'm not wanted, so I'll leave you three to it. Patterson, just please make sure she doesn't overdo it." He pressed a kiss to Jane's forehead and exited, leaving three stunned people in his wake.

Borden recovered first. "I should get going as well. I have a session in a few minutes. I'll see you later, Agent Patterson?"

He phrased it as a question, but Jane wasn't fooled. The light in his eyes when he looked at her friend was unmistakable, as was hers when she looked at him. "So . . . you and Borden, huh?" she asked Patterson as soon as he left the room.

Patterson blushed. "Yeah. It's still fairly new, so we've been keeping it quiet, but . . .Yeah." She looked at Jane and turned the tables on her. "And you and Kurt . . ."

"Oh . . .No," Jane said as she realized what Patterson was driving at. "No, we're friends again, but that's it. There's nothing romantic between us." Except for her one-sided feelings, of course. She could see by Patterson's disbelieving expression that the blonde didn't believe her, but before she could make a further attempt to convince her, Zapata walked through the door.

"Hey, Patterson, do you have that report on . . ." Tasha stopped dead as she caught sight of Jane standing next to Patterson. "Oh . . .hey, Jane."

An awkward silence descended on the room as the two of them stared at one another. "Oh, for Pete's sake," Patterson finally snapped, exasperated. "You and you . . ." She pointed at Tasha and then Jane, ". . . hug and make up already. You both know you want to."

Jane took a hesitant step toward Zapata, more than ready to end this feud, and Tasha quickly closed the remaining distance, surprising her by pulling her into a careful hug. "I'm sorry, Jane," she whispered. "For what I said right before . . . right before you got shot, and for the way I treated you before that. I know you didn't deserve it, that you didn't mean to . . . Anyway, I'm sorry."

"I forgive you, Tasha," Jane said softly, tightening their embrace. "And I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused you." She stepped back and glanced at Patterson. " _All_ of you."

"You're forgiven, Jane," Patterson said, and Zapata echoed that sentiment. "We know you never meant any harm. It's time to put the past behind us and move forward. And speaking of that . . ." She glanced at Tasha, silently requesting her friend to back her up. "Jane was just trying to convince me that she and Weller are 'just friends', but you should have seen the way he was looking at her when he brought her in here."

Tasha grinned. "Oh, you mean one of those looks where you have to step out of their line of sight or risk your panties melting off?" Patterson nodded as Jane spluttered. "Nope. Sorry, Jane. Not buying it. _Especially_ now that you're living under one roof."

"He called her 'darling' too," Patterson informed Zapata. " _And_ kissed her on the forehead before he left." She had never seen her workaholic boss so relaxed and happy.

"He was joking when he called me that," Jane protested, wishing they would drop this subject. It was just too painful to feel about Kurt the way she did, and know he no longer returned the sentiment. "And he probably kisses his sister the exact same way. It was totally platonic."

"Platonic." Tasha snorted. "Right. Jane, sweetie, if Weller looked at Sarah the way he does you, he would have to go straight to jail without passing go or collecting $200. Never mind," she said at Jane's confused look. Weller could explain the reference to her sometime. Or use his time for more . . . productive tutelage."Trust me, the guy is crazy about you. And it's obvious you feel the exact same way about him."

"It doesn't matter how I feel," Jane said quietly. "Kurt hasn't given me any indication that he's interested in me that way since . . ." She trailed off, but she saw they understood. "We talked yesterday, and he said he wanted to be friends again, but that's it." Surely if he wanted more, he would have said so then. "I've actually been thinking I should look for a place of my own, and move out."

"No, what you should do is give him an excuse to act on his feelings," Tasha said bluntly. "Tell him you're a little tense after therapy and you need a massage or something." Her eyes narrowed. "Hold on. You said he hasn't given you any indication that he was interested in you recently. Are you telling me that he did before?"

"We've kissed a couple times," Jane admitted, and winced when her friends squealed. "Well, I kissed him the first time, then he kissed me after I got kicked off the team. But then everything went bad and . . . If he really does still like me, why doesn't he just say so?" she demanded in exasperation.

"Because he's a man, Jane," Tasha said patiently. "They're never great at communicating, and Weller's worse than most. If I know him, he's probably convinced himself that _you_ couldn't possibly be interested in _him_ any longer. If you want him, you're going to have to take the initiative here. Trust me, it won't take much persuasion."

"Think about the alternative, Jane," Patterson said as Jane bit her lip, unsure. "Eventually, you'll both get frustrated and move on to other people who won't suit you nearly as well as each other, and you'll both be . . . well, maybe not miserable, but less happy than you could have been. Is that what you want?"

"No, of course not," Jane said instantly. She couldn't imagine ever being interested in another man, and the thought of Kurt with another woman was almost too painful to contemplate. Their friendship might be able to handle bitter disagreements, but she didn't think it could survive that. She didn't think she would ever be able to bear seeing him with someone else.

But she had a feeling taking a bullet for Kurt would prove to be easy compared to broaching this conversation.

"I'll talk to him, I promise," Jane assured Patterson and Zapata as the two of them continued to stare at her expectantly. Though she had no idea what she would say.

"Good," Patterson said, and Zapata echoed that. "Because you both deserve to be happy, and I've never seen Weller any more so than when he's with you. He may not ever say it but even with all the heartache you've put one another through, your coming into his life was the best thing to ever happen to him."

"It was the best thing to ever happen to me too," Jane said softly, and with that their conversation turned to lighter topics, but her mind never strayed far from their original subject.

"You've been quiet today," Kurt observed that evening after dinner as he placed soft drinks on the coffee table in front of them and took a seat on the opposite end of the couch. He would have preferred scotch, but Jane wasn't allowed to have alcoholic beverages again yet, and in deference to her, he was abstaining as well. "Did everything go okay today at the office? Was everyone nice to you?"

He knew Reade had been; he'd been there when they'd caught up with one another, and he didn't think Patterson had it in her to be unkind to anyone, but Zapata was a wild card. He thought she had been as ready as any of them to forgive Jane, but he had never explicitly confirmed that. The three women had been fairly quiet when they arrived in the bullpen, but Tasha's eyes had been gleaming with a look he couldn't quite define, but which made him very uncomfortable. "Zapata—"

"Was very kind to me," Jane assured him. "We talked through our differences, and we're friends again. We had a very nice chat."

"Good," Kurt said as he reached for his drink.

Jane took a deep breath as she watched him relax. _Now or never._ "In fact," she said matter-of-factly as he raised his glass to his lips and took a sip, "Tasha said she thinks you're in love with me."

Kurt choked as the soda went down the wrong way. "Jesus, Jane!" he gasped when he could speak again.

"Are you?" Jane asked, curling her legs under her and turning to face him. His face gave her the answer before he could hide it, and she felt a surge of pure joy flood through her. She had hardly credited Tasha when she had told her that, but her friend had been right after all. He still loved her, just as she did him. "Kurt—"

"It doesn't matter, Jane," Kurt said desperately. "It won't affect our friendship, I swear. I know after everything I've put you through that's the best I can hope for, and I'll respect that. I can keep things professional at the office, and I won't burden you with my feelings here at home. Nothing will change, you'll see."

"Well, that's a shame," Jane said as she scooted toward him, seeing the look in his eyes change from desperation to disbelief to wonder as she took his face in her hands and caressed his cheeks with her thumbs. "Because I love you too."

"Oh, Jane," Kurt murmured, but he barely had time to get the words out before her lips were on his. He gently pulled her onto his lap, ever mindful of her injured shoulder, and deepened the kiss, groaning as his tongue tangled with hers for the first time.

She gave a shy laugh when they finally pulled apart for air, just as she had done that long-ago day in the locker room, and the sound had him leaning forward to kiss her again. "How . . .?" he asked when they finally drew back once more. "When . . .?"

"Silly man," Jane told him as she snuggled down into his arms. "I never stopped. But I thought . . . I thought after I woke up in the hospital that all you felt was gratitude, and then yesterday after we talked . . . I thought your feelings had changed, and all you wanted from me was friendship, and I was determined to respect that."

Kurt chuckled. "We're a pair, aren't we? I felt the exact same way. Even though I thought it might kill me to see you with another guy, I was determined to be nice to him whenever you started dating, because I wanted you to be happy."

"Well, we're not quite evenly matched on that score," Jane admitted. "I wanted you to be happy, but I thought a move to China would be preferable to seeing you with another woman."

Kurt gazed down at her in shock for a long moment before he roared with laughter. "God, Jane." He pressed a quick, hard kiss to her lips. "You're priceless, you know that? And there will be no moving to China. You're stuck with me now."

Jane opened her mouth to tell him there was nowhere else she would rather be, but suddenly realized there was no need. He knew. He knew because just like her, he felt the same way.

They were back together, and their future looked bright.

And it was.


	6. Epilogue

I do not own Blindspot or its characters.

* * *

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" Jane asked nervously as Kurt turned down yet another winding country road. They had left the nearest town behind fifteen minutes ago, and she had begun to have doubts that the bed-and-breakfast where they were supposed to spend the night would be located somewhere this remote. They were on top of a mountain, after all. "Maybe we should have stopped at that last gas station and asked for directions."

"I know where I'm going, Jane." Kurt shot her an annoyed look. He was an assistant director of the FBI; he was more than capable of finding one isolated hotel.

Jane wisely closed her mouth with a snap. _What was it with men and asking for directions?_ she wondered in irritation. It was as if admitting they needed help navigating unfamiliar roads was an insult to their manhood.

It was their six-month anniversary in a few days, and Kurt had surprised her by announcing that he had planned a week-long road trip to celebrate, winding from Vermont to Maine and then down to Massachusetts, culminating in a two-night stay at an inn on Martha's Vineyard. She had found the idea incredibly romantic when he first proposed it—and still did—but after a long day of driving, she simply wanted out of this vehicle.

Just as Kurt did, she was sure. They had made several stops to stretch their legs and visit local landmarks (and had the new cooler full of local delicacies to prove it), but neither of them were used to sitting so long at a stretch, and the kinks in her muscles were beginning to make her cranky. Kurt was definitely going to be giving her a back rub when they reached their destination.

 _If_ they reached their destination, she amended, but almost as soon as she thought that, they rounded a sharp curve, and the bed-and-breakfast came into view. Jane's aggravation vanished in an instant. "Oh, Kurt. It's beautiful." She reached for his free hand and gripped it tightly as he slowed down to let them fully appreciate the picturesque view.

The bed-and-breakfast was a stately mansion, flanked by several cozy-looking cottages, overlooking the valley far below and giving panoramic views of Vermont's Green Mountains. Jane exited the car the moment Kurt pulled to a stop in the driveway, spinning in a circle to take in the beauty surrounding her as she sucked in lungfuls of the crisp, clean air.

Kurt grinned at her as he came to a stop beside her. "So I take it this means it meets with your approval, then?"

"How could it not?" Jane asked, spreading her arms wide to express her wordless appreciation of the scenery. "This place is . . ." _Amazing. Perfect. Heavenly._ "Can we just stay here all week?" Or forever?

"Sorry," Kurt said. "One night only this time, but we can come back some day if you want to." He dropped an arm around her shoulders and they stood in silence for a moment, soaking in the view together. "Now—" he pressed a kiss to her forehead, "—we've still got a few hours before sunset. What do you say we go get checked in and get our stuff unloaded, and then you can drag your camera back out and start taking pictures. Of the _scenery,_ " he specified when Jane grinned at him.

"I thought that's what I was doing," she said, raking her eyes over him appreciatively. His eyes let her know he appreciated the compliment even as he shook his head at her in mock disapproval and took her hand to lead her inside.

Sarah had given Jane the camera at the surprise birthday party she'd used her vacation to come back to town to throw for Jane a few weeks earlier, and Jane had been ceaselessly taking pictures—mostly of him or Bethany, or both—with it ever since. Everyone on the team had taken to scurrying in the opposite direction when they saw her coming lately, but since he lived with her, he didn't have that luxury.

Not that he would have done so, anyway. He knew details of the past that she had chosen to remain in ignorance of, knew that she had never truly had a home or people that genuinely cared about her, and he had made it his mission in life to make up for that. It had taken some doing at first—both of them tended to be workaholics, and his new job as Assistant Director made finding free time especially challenging—but they had finally managed to strike a balance between their professional and personal lives.

And Jane had made great strides in finding herself in that time, as well. She had officially changed her name to Jane Doe two months after they'd gotten together, with his full encouragement and support, and had finished up the last few college classes she'd needed to obtain her degree. He'd never been prouder of her than when she walked across that stage to receive her diploma, and he had taken her to one of the finest restaurants in the city to celebrate before taking her home and making slow, sweet love to her the remainder of the night.

She still consulted with the team on tattoo-related cases, but the majority of her time now was spent with the linguistics department, which allowed her (mostly) to go home at the same time as him. And for him not to be out of his mind with worry while she was out in the field without him. She'd captured his heart so completely he couldn't imagine life without her. He hadn't been living before he met her, merely existing.

"Hi. I'm Kurt Weller," Kurt said as they approached the check-in desk, smiling at the older woman he assumed was the owner he'd talked to when making the reservation. "This is my girlfriend, Jane Doe."

"Mr. Weller. I'm Kate Douglas. We spoke on the phone." Kate smiled at him. "It's nice to finally meet you in person." Her attention shifted to Jane. "You as well, Ms. Doe. That's quite an unusual name."

"She's quite an unusual person," Kurt inserted hastily, not wanting Jane to feel uncomfortable with the observation as she often did with the attention she drew because of her tattoos. He realized that might not have come out quite right. "What I mean is—"

"It's okay, Kurt." Jane had braced herself for the look of subtle disapproval she normally received when people saw her for the first time, but this woman never blinked, and she relaxed, something about the woman's friendly demeanor making her open up much more than usual. "I had—I _have_ amnesia, and by the time Kurt discovered my real identity, I had grown used to the name Jane Doe, so I decided to keep it. I guess I just wanted a fresh start."

"Haven't we all," Kate said as she accepted Kurt's credit card and ran it through the machine. "My husband and I were bankers in New York City for over half our lives before we got sick of the rat race and bought this place. Best decision we ever made." She glanced from Jane to Kurt. "As I'm guessing yours is for you."

"Yes," Jane agreed softly, blushing a little as she smiled up at Kurt. "And this is another first for me. I've never had a vacation . . . well, that I can recall, anyway."

Kate smiled at her. "Well, we'll do our best to make our part of this one memorable for you. If you'll follow me, I'll show you to your cottage."

"Cottage?" Jane whispered to Kurt as they trailed along behind Mrs. Douglas.

Kurt grinned sheepishly at her. "Just doing my part to make this vacation memorable for you," he parroted. "Only the best for the best girlfriend I've ever had."

Jane smiled, warmed by the compliment but still worried. "Kurt," she said once Mrs. Douglas had shown them to their luxurious accommodations and gone, "you know it's being with you that makes this vacation memorable for me, right? That makes _all_ our time together memorable. You don't need to spend a fortune on the most expensive places to make me happy." She could be happy with him in a tent at a rest stop. In fact, that would be a step up from some of the places she now recalled _living._

"I know, Jane," Kurt assured her. "And I promise you, this trip is not breaking the bank." He met her gaze steadily until she nodded. "Now . . . what do you say we get our stuff unloaded, and you grab your camera, and we go check out some of those hiking trails Mrs. Douglas told us about? You should be able to get some great shots from there. Of _actual_ scenery," he added, and she laughed.

"I'm going to have to find Sarah something extra special for her birthday," Jane commented as she slung her camera bag over her shoulder and they headed out on the trail. "I still can't believe she bought me something this expensive for mine."

"She always wanted a sister," Kurt commented absently as they rounded a bend with an absolutely breathtaking overlook.

Jane had been several steps ahead, already bending over to get her camera when his words registered, and she froze. "Is that what Sarah sees me as?" she asked quietly when she'd recovered enough to straighten up. "A sister?"

"Well . . ." Kurt was flustered by his slip of the tongue. "You are dating me, and . . . and . . ." And he hoped to make the arrangement more permanent, which Sarah well knew, though he hadn't broached the subject with Jane yet. He had never been great with words, and this was the most important question he'd ask in his life.

Jane nodded, unconvinced. If that was Sarah's only criteria for choosing a sister, then she certainly had a lot of them, given Kurt's dating history. Barring his year-long relationship with Allie, theirs was the longest relationship he'd had, a fact which worried her more than she cared to admit. He'd already admitted to being too choosy to settle down, and if Allie was anything to judge by, his previous girlfriends were beautiful and smart and sexy and so very, very . . . normal. If none of them had tempted him to make their relationship permanent, what chance did she have, with a screwed-up past that he knew better than she and a body covered in tattoos that drew stares and whispers wherever they went?

She turned away and fiddled with her camera, sensing Kurt's relief when she let the subject drop. She did indeed get some great shots, plenty of which still included Kurt, much to her amusement and his dismay, and by the time they returned to their cottage, the dinner he had ordered had arrived. They feasted on the gourmet meal and then cuddled up on the private balcony to watch the sunset before their desire for one another led them to retire early to bed.

Their trip continued in that vein for the next five days. They toured local landmarks, bought numerous goodies and souvenirs for themselves and their friends, and spent every night at a picturesque bed-and-breakfast exploring the sights and then one another.

By the time they arrived in Martha's Vineyard, Jane had taken so many pictures that it would take days to sort through them all, and she had lost her fear that this wouldn't last. Kurt had smiled and laughed more than she had ever seen him, never missing an opportunity to tell her he loved her, and as far as she could tell, they were communicating perfectly. So maybe normal had been overrated for him.

"I have something to tell you," Kurt said, breaking with their established pattern once they had settled into their secluded cottage on the island, taking a seat on the loveseat rather than leading the way out the door to explore the local culture.

"Oh, yeah?" Jane asked curiously, taking a seat beside him. "What's that?"

Kurt pasted a mock serious expression on his face as he pulled the letter he'd received right before their trip out of his pocket. Jane had been talking about becoming a full-fledged agent ever since she graduated, but she'd been hesitant to apply to Quantico, uncertain how such a move would affect their relationship, so he'd gone ahead and done it for her. He'd received word the day before she left that she had been accepted. "See for yourself."

Jane unfolded the paper with some trepidation, stunned when its contents registered, and her gaze flew to Kurt's. "I'm . . . You . . . But . . ." Her thoughts were a jumbled mess and she paused to try to collect herself. " _Wow._ So it's official. I'm going to be an agent." _But what did that mean for them?_ Surely Kurt wouldn't have gone to all this expense, taken her on a trip like this, if there was no future for them? Would he?

No. Absolutely not. Jane tamped down that worry, ashamed of herself for even thinking like that when Kurt had done something so incredible for her. She hugged him fiercely. "Thank you, Kurt. This is . . . this is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me." Even without all her memories, she was certain of that. "So . . . Agent Jane Doe. That has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"It does," Kurt agreed, his smile fading from his face to be replaced by a genuinely serious expression as he pulled a second item out of his pocket, seeing her eyes widen in shock as they took in the ring box, "but I think Agent Jane _Weller_ sounds even better."

He lowered himself to one knee before her and took her hand in his, threading their fingers together. Needing that contact to help him get through the most difficult speech he would ever have to make, the most important words he would ever utter. Well, except for the all-important _I do_ if she said yes.

"Jane . . . I know we've had our ups and downs, but I was never so blessed as the day you had yourself delivered into my life." She laughed in spite of herself, of the seriousness of the occasion, at that, and he offered a tiny smile in return. "I'd given up hope that I would ever feel this way about someone, but I've come to love you more than life itself, and I'm hoping you'll agree to spend the rest of yours with me." He took a deep breath. "Jane Doe . . . will you marry me?"

"Oh, Kurt . . . _yes!"_ Jane said, all but knocking him backwards as she launched herself off the couch into his arms. "I'd rather be your wife than . . . than anything in the world. Even an FBI agent." She could always find another career, but there was only one Kurt Weller.

"Well, as it turns out . . . you don't have to choose, Jane," Kurt told her tenderly as he slid the diamond engagement ring onto her finger, smiling as she turned it this way and that to see it sparkle in the light, loving that she was now wearing tangible proof that she was his. "Brad Stone has been wanting to retire for a while, but there hasn't been another agent with his language skills to take over the linguistics department. But I told him if he could wait just a few months more, there would be. And even though I'll be your boss, our being in a relationship won't be an obstacle for that particular job. You won't be able to go out into the field with the team anymore, but—"

"I'll take it," Jane said, allowing him to pull her back onto the couch and leaning over to seal their engagement with a kiss. "So . . . you want to get married before I go to Quantico then?" The date on the letter said she was due to report next month. That wasn't a lot of time to plan a wedding. But then again, she didn't need anything fancy.

She just needed him.

"I want to get married tomorrow," Kurt told her. "Why do you think Sarah was sounding you out on what you would like when she came to town two weeks ago? She and Sawyer are already here, with the dress you picked out, and the team is flying in tonight. If you . . . if you're okay with that, of course. I know it's sudden—"

Jane leaned over to kiss him once more to show him just how okay with that she was.

And on the morrow, when they stood at the altar of the little church nearby, there was nary a tremor in either of their voices as they pledged their lives to one another.

It turned out to be the best choice either of them ever made.


End file.
